


in the depths of elysium

by kingburu



Series: til we grow old [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/pseuds/kingburu
Summary: Nico isalive. Jason can feel Nicobreathingagainst him, and the mop of ebony hair actuallyticklesagainst Jason, and Nico’s skin issmoothagainst him.“You’re so cold,” Nico whispers in his ear, shivering.“You’re not,” Jason whispers back, and he holds back a sob. He feels Nico’s hands wrap around his shoulder blades—and Jason doesn’t know if it’s the touch, or Nico’s silent word, but he feels calm. At peace.--Jason spends his time in the Underworld waiting for Nico to come visit him. Waiting for everyone else to die, so he's not alone. Wondering how he's in Elysium, and why he can't behappy.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, if you squint
Series: til we grow old [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804777
Comments: 54
Kudos: 383





	in the depths of elysium

**Author's Note:**

> So this story spawned less than a week ago because I got really sad about Jason's death! I started writing this for cartharsis...and then it kind of grew, and then it kind of became a fix it story. 
> 
> For those of you who have not read Trials of Apollo, **SPOILERS!!** Jason is dead! For those of you who are still reluctant and have not read Trials of Apollo, don't worry!! I have barely skimmed it myself, and I think most of the context clues are there! Anyway, this has been itching at me for the last week and I have been wanting to write it! Please enjoy, I'm happy with the results!
> 
> And here are some songs that got me through the story: 
> 
> I See the Light from Tangled  
> Epic III from Hadestown  
> Promises from Hadestown

The best part about being dead? No homework.

At least, that’s what Percy would say. In the usual way he’d try to spread some wry optimism into their situation (where the edge of Percy’s lips would tilt, and he’d give Jason this wry, knowing look in substitute of the words, _Fuck Hera_ , like when they first met after the switch.) 

Annabeth would smack Percy and tell him that if he did his homework, then they’d be in less dire situations.

Leo would probably invent something to do his homework for him and spend all of class trying to rig the teacher’s computer to fly out the window. Then, he’d declare, _“No homework for the rest of the year!_ ”

Frank and Reyna would do their homework. (Jason would too, and Percy would probably try to cheat off of him after getting a round of _No’s_ from everyone else.)

Hazel would probably use the Mist and make it _look_ like she was doing homework so she could run off and ride on Arion instead. Piper would stand up, walk towards the classroom door, and tell their teacher that she’s leaving.

Jason could let his breath drop after she left. He wouldn’t have to live with the disappointment of not being the boyfriend she wanted or deserved. He wouldn’t have to feel bad that he was so distracted while they were dating.

One of the worst things about being dead?

Having regrets for the things he didn’t get to do before he died. Never being able to finish building the temples for all of the minor deities, like Kymopoleia.

Spending so much time sketching everything out for all of the temples he wanted to build, that he didn’t make time for other people.

Not having that fight with Percy, to see who was actually stronger (does death mean he loses? Or does it not count since Percy wasn’t the one who killed him?)

Not spending enough time with his sister. Not begging her to stay a day longer, the last time they saw each other.

Not asking Annabeth more about Thalia, since the two demigods were so close.

Not visiting New Rome nearly as much because he was afraid that his friends would think that he was too different now.

Never finding Leo, after six months of searching.

Never taking Nico up on his invitation to sit together at the campfire sing-a-along. Encouraging Nico to go out on that date with Will Solace instead.

Not being the boyfriend that Piper wanted.

Not… _caring_ that he wasn’t the boyfriend that Piper wanted, because it was exhausting.

The absolute _worst_ part about being dead?

Waiting for the rest of his friends to die, so he wouldn’t be alone.

*

The first day isn’t too bad. Jason gets deemed worthy for Elysium for hundreds of good deeds he’s done in his lifetime (a majority that he doesn’t remember) and then gets whisked away to a house made of marble that reminds him of his old one at the via principalis.

His tour ghoul takes him across all of Elysium, including the lush fields, the vibrant blue skies and the many smells that range from effervescent flowers to savory meals to decadent desserts. The roads are lined with buildings galore, ranging from Jason’s own simple house to castles and villas that Jason thinks Annabeth would like.

The roads are pristine and clean, as though not a speck of dirt has ever met the floor. (Piper would like it.) The waters that surround the Isles of the Blessed are so clear that Jason can see rocks at the bottom of the lake. (Percy would be suspicious.) There’s a masonry filled with only the finest materials, where a screw is never missing, and a socket wrench can always be found. (Leo would love it.)

For demigods who’ve died too young— _young_ , like Jason, there are chivalry competitions—gladiator fights, pole vaulting, jousting (Jason thinks about Hazel swinging her spatha on Arion, knocking everyone out with one fatal sweep.)

“Does it ever storm?” Jason asks, when the sky feels _too_ blue, and the winds feel _too_ nice.

His tour ghoul’s laughter is cheery and hollow—a reminder that she’s free of her corporal body, which should’ve vibrated with glee. “Why would you _ever_ want it to storm in Elysium?”

Jason’s gaze lingers on his hands—the ones he’d spent years using, summoning ribbons of lightning and stirring dark clouds for the sake of saving friends. Saving his cohort, saving the world. Saving Apollo, Meg, and Piper. “No reason.”

*

He meets other famous demigods, of course. Theseus, the fourteen-year-old King of Athens. Achilles, who wears a thick boot over his foot and walks with a limp because of it. Both of them seem far too uncaring of his presence. They greet him with faux pretenses, putting on a smile that mirrored Jason’s own when he was Praetor Grace and greeted new campers. He asks them for guidance, but he’s not sure it’s what he wants to hear.

“Want some advice?” Theseus echoes, and his sea green eyes glimmer in a way that makes Jason’s heart ache. “For what? You’re already dead.”

“I’ve got advice for you,” Achilles tells him, a haughtiness to his tone as he fiddles with the medical boot. “Enjoy the afterlife.”

Jason meets old campers that he grew up with, like Marcus, and sees the stripes on his arm that doesn’t quite add up to ten.

“I was never the strongest demigod,” Marcus tells him. Relief fills his voice as he shines his dagger, ready for another gladiator fight. “I’m sad I never got to see my mom again before I died, but at least now she doesn’t have to worry, you know? I’m at peace.”

“Sure,” Jason responds. “Do you wish you could see her again?”

“All the time,” Marcus confesses, and there’s a wistfulness to his eyes. The sadness is brief, and a moment later he grins again. “But I’m happy here, aren’t you?”

“Sure.”

He tries to meet some of the huntresses that have fallen in battle, like Phoebe. She isn’t keen to his visits because he’s a boy—but they find common ground in talking about Artemis’s lieutenant.

“She visited your grave,” Phoebe tells him, which—if Jason could breathe or had a pulse, he’d lose his breath and his heart would skip a beat.

Instead, Jason feels the ache in his chest. “How do you know?”

“I still have a connection to my lady,” Phoebe says, as though it’s obvious. “I just know. Surely you would know. Don’t you feel it, through your connection with your father?”

Not at all. “I don’t carry the same connection to my father as you do to your lady, unfortunately.”

“No, you don’t,” Phoebe says in a tactless way that makes Jason miss his sister just a little more. “They gave you a true Roman funeral in front of the Temple of Jupiter. It was that Aphrodite girl’s idea—Piper?”

A true Roman funeral, after Jason decided to stay at Camp Halfblood. After he moved away from there, too, and decided to go to attend school in Pasadena, California, to feel a little closer to his mother.

“She always knew me best.” Jason smiles weakly, and Phoebe wrinkles her nose in disgust.

*

Jason meets Esperanza Valdez, and she’s as every bit as beautiful as Leo described her. Her hair is long and curly, and she has the same smile as his best friend. Her eyes well up with tears when Jason tells her all of the details—how Leo ran away from home after her death—six times—and eventually found a family at Camp Halfblood. How he fixed a dragon, built a warship, defeated Gaea, cheated death, and found a girlfriend.

Esperanza smiles at him sadly across the work bench, her hand tapping in the same rhythmic pattern as Jason’s seen Leo do many times before. _I love you._

“He finally got to meet his father?” Esperanza says fondly, her intonation so similar to Leo’s that would make Jason’s stomach knot if he were alive. “And he got over his fear of fire.”

Jason nods. “He did, ma’am.”

She sweeps him into a hug, smelling like engine grease and enchiladas. It reminds Jason of the cold night near Pike’s Peak, where Leo’s warmth and bad jokes helped him feel at ease when he learned he had a sister. When in that tiny moment, Jason learned he wasn’t _completely_ alone. “You’re a sweet kid, Jason. Thanks for being his best friend.”

_I never got to see him again_ , Jason doesn’t say. He holds her awkwardly—and then melts in her embrace. Jason doesn’t think he’s ever been held before. Not by a mother.

He seeks out Emily Zhang after that. Frank and he weren’t as close, but he thinks it’s reprieve that another mother of a demigod would appreciate. Emily Zhang has the demeanor of a woman who’s retired after war: relieved, yet sad. Her gaze is as gentle as Frank’s is, but Jason knows it can harden in an instance, when needed. He’s seen it on Frank’s face.

He's seen it on his own. A noble soldier who’s willing to fall in the line of duty in order to protect others around them.

Emily touches a hand to her lips, her eyes swelling with tears as Jason regales her about Praetor Zhang of the Twelfth Legion. “And the firewood?”

“It didn’t stop him during the war,” Jason assures her. “He’s brave.”

She doesn’t throw her arms around him like Esperanza did. Emily’s gaze lingers contemplatively at her hands, reminiscing on the days she held her son in her arms, and she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I spent every day wondering when the fire would burn out,” Emily says finally. She kisses him on the temple—much more cleanly than Esperanza’s hug, but just as tender. “But the longer I have to wait for him here in Elysium, the happier I am.”

Jason touches his forehead, body light from the sweet touch, and smiles. “I’m glad, ma’am.”

He just doesn’t know if he shares the same sentiment. The longer he’s in Elysium, Jason feels worse.

*

Jason finds temporary solace in the Greek demigods in Elysium—the ones that are from the same century as him. Lee Fletcher and Michael Yew flash him smiles that reminds him of their dad, Apollo, and Jason finds himself just _hoping_ that the old sun god is okay. He _hopes_ Apollo will fulfill his duties, and Kymopoleia will get her action figures, and the other gods will get their shrines.

“Little Will is the head counselor of Apollo Cabin now, huh?” Michael Yew remarks, which Jason finds funny. _Little Will_ has at least seven inches on his brother.

“Hard to believe that he’s all grown now,” Lee agrees, and Jason can’t help but feel a twinge of discomfort in the pit of his stomach. “Hey—you know you have a sister, right? She was the only person in Cabin One—”

“Thalia,” Jason cuts him off when the twinge swells into something more uncomfortable. “I know.”

Lee stares at him quizzically, and then shrugs. “Well, if you were around for her, maybe she would’ve stayed at Camp Halfblood instead of joining the Huntresses. Crazy thought.”

If Beryl hadn’t taken him to the Wolf House at the age of two, then Thalia wouldn’t have run away. Thalia and he might’ve actually grown up together. Jason wouldn’t have spent the first fifteen years of his life not knowing when his birthday was.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, “Crazy thought.”

He feels comfortable when he meets Charles Beckendorf and Silena Beauregard, even if they aren’t the son and daughter of Hephaestus and Aphrodite that Jason’s used to. Beckendorf is the exact opposite of Leo—tall and thoughtful of his words, while Silena is an effortless beauty that Jason thinks Piper would admire.

The energy around the couple is so syrupy sweet that it feels like the flowers bloom each time they look at each other. Jason clings onto the fond thought of Piper throwing Leo in a headlock and ruffling his hair.

He thinks he likes them a little more, too, because they can bond over stories about Annabeth and Percy. Beckendorf slaps a large hand against the table and laughs warmly, like a fire in a kiln when Jason describes drowning Chrysaor’s ship of gold with diet pepsi.

“That kid always had the craziest ideas,” Beckendorf says. There’s no resentment in his voice—no regret that he died young helping Percy during the first war.

Silena rolls her eyes in a sisterly, loving way. “That boy had the grace of pegasi dung. I never knew if Annabeth was going to punch him or kiss him.”

“Sometimes both,” Jason informs her. “They got together after the first war.”

She gasps with delight, her gaze glittering with joy. “ _Really_?”

“Yeah.”

Then, Jason watches as Silena excitedly shakes her beloved boyfriend by the arm and gushes about the five short years that they knew Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson. Beckendorf and Silena exchange stories where they thought Annabeth and Percy were _almost_ going to kiss, or when Percy put his foot in his mouth so badly during Capture the Flag that it came out the other end, and Jason reassures them that the dynamic hasn’t changed.

He thinks back to all of the moments where he watched this unfold—Annabeth’s exasperated look and Percy’s mischievous smile as they bent the rules. Then he thinks about the disappointed flicker that would appear in Piper’s eye, when their relationship wasn’t the same. They weren’t the same as Percy and Annabeth, and he wasn’t the Jason that Piper fell for in the mist memories.

(Those disappointed looks usually grew heavier, and at some point Jason focused on building temples instead of drowning in guilt for not being good enough.)

“Did you ever have an Annabeth, Jason?” Silena asks him sweetly. It’s the same tone that she used at the mention of Percy, but Jason can’t help but think about how filled with love with it. And how _different_ it feels from Piper’s voice. “Or a Charlie?”

For some reason, Jason’s cheeks flutter with red, while Beckendorf laughs affectionately at his girlfriend’s antics. “I, uh. Had a you?”

He explains those very memories to Silena—of waking up in Piper’s lap and saving her from falling down the Grand Canyon. There’s a little pride in his voice as he talks about being able to impress Piper as Jason Grace, boy with amnesia instead of Praetor Grace, son of Jupiter, but also guilt. He talks about how he wanted to make it up to her and create those memories, so she’d be happy, and how he thought about her in every waking moment to the point he’d be exhausted when they were away from each other.

At first Silena smiles, smitten by the story, but then it starts to fade with concern, and she stares at him pityingly.

“Sounds like you were the dream boyfriend,” she tells him politely. “Until you both woke up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

It’s strange for him that Beckendorf matches his girlfriend’s look—something that Jason has only seen Leo do to Piper mockingly. “Sometimes dating a child of Aprodite can feel like an extended honeymoon stage if the two of you aren’t careful. You don’t know what the other person is really thinking until you take the rose-colored glasses off.”

Jason frowns.

“You need depth in a relationship to know if you truly love each other,” Silena says. She rolls her eyes tiredly, flashing a look at her boyfriend once more. “Love and beauty have many layers and _depth_ to them, but I’m not sure if the Aphrodite Cabin was ever willing to learn that.”

“They were learning,” Jason insists, because despite the downward turn their relationship took, he still cared for Piper. The spear to his heart hurt a little less than when she left him. “Piper was helping them.”

“By charmspeaking her boyfriend into her beck and call?” Silena asks skeptically. She’s nice about it, at least. “Trying to reenact fake memories?”

“No—” Even now, Jason feels the need to defend Piper. He doesn’t like that they ended on bad terms—but he didn’t like the end of their relationship either. “I mean—I’m just like that. Trying to make people happy. I’ve spent my whole life doing it.”

“Then that’s worse,” Silena says, and she grimaces. “Look, anyone can _charm_ you. Luke charmed _me._ You think you’re at the top of the world at first, and then you plummet.”

“But I was _happy._ ” He was happy until he disappointed her. Until he couldn’t please her. Until he couldn’t stand her, and part of him was _relieved_ that they broke up—but his heart still hurt, because he still couldn’t get that happiness back. Jason’s eyebrows wrinkle together, and his lips contort into another frown.

Luckily, Beckendorf coughs and breaks the tension. “Well, did you have anyone else?”

“I had a you?” Jason replies, though now he’s sick to his stomach and he fiddles with his jean pocket. He didn’t think you could feel _sick_ in Elysium.

“No,” Beckendorf says instantly, “I mean—sure. Did you have someone you had _depth_ with?”

“No, not with Leo.” Jason studies the picnic table. His relationship with Leo was candid and brotherly in a way that Jason wished he had with the Fifth Cohort. Leo would poke fun of him as much as he reveled him.

He focuses on the word _depth_ , which feels strange since they’re all hollow and ghostly. There’s the _depths_ of the Underworld, but with the artificially blue sky and the sickeningly sweet weather, it’s hard to remember that’s where they are. The Underworld is supposed to be _dark_ and _horrifying_ , while Elysium is made up of every dream and positive emotion that mortals had when they were alive. Jason doesn’t think he’s had a calm thought since he got here.

Then for some reason, he thinks about the dark depths of Nico’s eyes, and the many layers that made up the son of Hades: a kid born in the early 1930s who found himself in the twenty-first century, who held his heart on a sleeve and a steely mask on his face—and could finally melt into a smile around the campfire. Who liked to talk, but needed encouragement.

Jason finds another regret in his musings: not being able to have long talks in the Hades Cabin, until 4AM anymore.

He wonders if Nico’s thought of him since his death. If Nico attended his funeral.

(Why Nico isn’t barging into Elysium now, asking for his company, but Jason knows Nico’s got a whole new life now at Camp Halfblood. With Will Solace. Nico’s busy and happy, and that’s all Jason ever wanted for Nico. For Nico to be _happy._ )

His chest aches, thinking about Nico. About the way the embers of the campfire looked like fireflies dancing in Nico’s eyes, and how he smelled of firewood and the peace in his smile. Talking to Nico _always_ made him feel better. Until Will came into the picture.

“You have one,” Silena says, bursting his bubble. She smiles, much more pleased about the look on Jason’s face than before. “A Charlie.”

Jason knows that he’s dead, but he feels the heat rise in his cheeks all the same. He swallows hard and looks at the two demigods. “Do you…ever _not_ feel happy in Elysium?”

Beckendorf and Silena exchange a look, taken aback by the statement. Jason feels like he did when he was a praetor—when he joined the Fifth Cohort despite the insistence that he should join the First (he was a precocious three-year-old, after all) and when he campaigned to rename the Twelfth Legion to the First.

It's against tradition. It’s not what’s expected. People are _happy_ in Elysium.

“No,” Beckendorf says, and he gives Silena’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Silena smiles in a way that makes Jason’s heart yearn. “We have each other.”

*

Esperanza and Emily are on opposite ends of the spectrum as far as personalities go. So of course, it makes Jason miss Leo and Frank more. Esperanza is full of wit and jokes, switching from English to Spanish in the same way Leo would when he got too excited. She uses her hands a lot, and when she smirks, Jason has to resist the urge to look over his shoulder to make sure no one is dropping a spider down his shirt.

Emily smiles in an exasperated way that makes Jason think of tired days on the Argo II, when Frank would think best to let Leo loose rather than stifle him. She’s so calm and gentle that Jason understands _why_ Frank had a hard time letting go of her death.

“Where’s your mom, Jason?” she asks him, when Jason’s visits become routine. He’s relieved that they don’t mind—they’re a good distraction. “I bet she’s every bit as sweet as you are.”

“Um, no,” Jason tells her awkwardly, and he fiddles with his beltloop. “She’s in the Fields of Eternal Punishment. For parental neglect.”

Esperanza and Emily’s expressions drop, and they stare at him in surprise.

“I was raised by wolves,” Jason continues, trying to dispel the wave of discomfort that appears.

Emily and Esperanza share a look—and much like their sons, they find a middle ground.

“Brownies,” Esperanza says, and she stands up from her bench. “We’re going to make you the _best_ brownies in the world.”

“The best,” Emily agrees, and she kisses Jason on the cheek.

Of course, the Valdez method of making the _best of anything_ includes making sure that the oven is the absolute best, too. She doesn’t actually know how to cook very well. Emily, for some reason, has already predicted this, and throws an apron at Jason so they can work on the batter together. She tells Jason stories about when Frank was little and how they would bake together. Esperanza chimes in with her own stories of how Leo and she used to tinker about in her workshop, sending messages to each other in Morse Code.

It's such a strange sight. Jason thinks both Esperanza and Emily are as different as their sons, but being mothers is what puts them on common ground. Every day they died before their children is a day they await Leo and Frank to arrive. Jason wonders if Beryl ever felt that way—and considers, no, she probably didn’t.

After enough visits and bottomless plates of brownies, Jason’s feelings slip out.

“If you’re not happy with Elysium, just tell the ghost ladies,” Esperanza tells him. She waves around a nacho, flicking cheese everywhere while Emily doesn’t even blink anymore as she wipes it up with a napkin. “You’re supposed to be happy. Let them make the improvements.”

Jason smiles at the scene fondly, and then hesitation creeps in his voice. “What if…it’s not just one improvement? What if I’ve considered more?”

“A guy with blueprints, huh?” Esperanza remarks, and her eyes glint fondly. “Tell the big guy.”

The big guy. The King of the Dead himself. Jason considers this, then turns his gaze to Emily.

Emily looks less convinced but nods anyway. “The worst he can do is say no.”

“Yeah, Jason,” Esperanza says, and she scoops a heap of nachos onto Jason’s plate. “What’s he going to do otherwise? _Kill_ you? You’re already dead.”

*

Of course, the ghoul laughs in his face. “A son of _Zeus_? You seek counsel with Lord Hades?”

“Well, yeah,” Jason tells her. “Is that not allowed?”

The ghoul looks uncomfortable with his question. She contorts her eyebrows and gestures at Jason like a physical object. “You’re a son of _Zeus._ ”

“Jupiter, actually.” Jason takes a page out of the Valdez’s book and shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen? I’m already dead.”

She stares at him again as though he’s grown a second head, and her demeanor darkens. “You’re looking for a one-way trip to the Fields of Eternal Punishment, Jason Grace.”

“Oh, good,” Jason remarks. “I could spend some time with my mother then.”

*

Seeing the Palace of the Underworld makes Jason feel a little better. The darkened skies, the obsidian walls—everything that makes death real and ominous. It’s strangely comforting in a way. Alecto, one of Hades’ servants, picks him up from Elysium in a black chariot pulled by skeletal horses that make Jason think of pegasi races at Camp Halfblood. She gives him a penchant smirk the same way the ghoul did, and Jason admires her wings.

“Scared?” Alecto asks, and her face almost looks human. Jason thinks back to the tale Percy told him once—how one of Hades’s furies was his math teacher and hated him so much that he never got above a C-minus in her class.

“No,” Jason says, and he gestures to the leathery wings poking out of her back. “I miss flying.”

He never had wings, but he used to love taking care of the war eagles at Camp Jupiter. They’d covet around him like mother hens (when the hens weren’t doting on him) and it would help Jason feel closer to his father.

He briefly wonders how his father felt about his death. Did he get a pine tree, like Thalia? Did Dad care?

Alecto studies his face, sharp and analytical, but doesn’t say a word.

He’s put in a sitting room for a while. Jason’s lost track of time since coming to Elysium. Elysium expands for every hero that dies in this war sparked by Apollo—and while Jason recognizes a lot of young faces from New Rome, he’s sad every time it’s not one of his close friends. The ones who knew him best.

_Did_ they know him best? He has time to muse. After all, he was buried in New Rome, when he ended the war wanting nothing more than to stay at Camp Halfblood.

Then again, that feeling didn’t last very long, either. 

Eventually, Alecto guides him into the throne room, no longer giving him the same sneer as before.

Hades sits on his onyx throne—one adorned with skulls throughout history. Two hellhounds flank on either side of the King of the Dead, and old soldiers from different eras guard the many halls of the Underworld. Another Fury is perched at his armrest, holding different pieces of parchment paper for him to sign. Jason has seen quills before, but Hades appears to be using the bone of a very large bird’s wing.

Alecto clears her throat, and Hades peers up, an expression of disinterest on his face. “My lord, the son of Jupiter has arrived.”

At the mention of Jason’s lineage, Hades’s pen pauses an inch away from his latest piece of parchment paper. He peers up, eyes as dark as the blackest night, and a wrinkle appears between his eyebrows.

“Uncle,” Jason greets, and he’s compelled to kneel. “Thank you for meeting with me—”

“Ah, yes. My brother’s son.” Hades cuts him off with an apathetic tone, his lips contorting into a scowl. “The one who doesn’t think Elysium is good enough for him.”

Suddenly the dread floods Jason’s senses, and Esperanza’s musing of, _what’s the worse that Hades can do to you_ feels much scarier. He looks up to this god of shadows, whose face is gaunt and reflects the hollowness of his realm, and the many tortured souls that swim about his robes. Jason swallows hard—and if he had a heartbeat, it’d be hammering in his ribcage.

“There’s a misunderstanding, my lord,” Jason says quickly. “I was just thinking of ways to improve Elysium.”

_“Improve_ Elysium, you arrogant boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

When Hades rolls his eyes, the Greek torches against the walls flicker. Jason thinks about how quickly Hades’s darkness could envelop the entire palace and consume his essence. It’s terrifying.

Almost as terrifying as standing up to his father in Athens and trying to be his counsel.

Hades flicks his disinterested gaze in Alecto’s direction, as if silently asking why she would insult her lord, and she flinches.

Jason speaks quickly. “I was thinking about how there could be a fountain dedicated to Charon, to thank him for a safe voyage to the Underworld. And a brazier, to offer him food.”

The King of the Dead arches one narrow eyebrow in the air. Beside him, Alecto heaves a sigh of relief.

“Going back and forth through the rivers of the Underworld is tiring,” Jason continues slowly, “I’m sure the journey is long. Many aren’t fortunate enough to have a coin to offer him. I bet the ones who arrived are grateful to make it this far.”

Once his explanation is over, Jason half expects to be hit for speaking out of turn, or to be absorbed like one of the souls in Hades’ robes. Instead, the King of the Dead strokes his chin, his corporeal skin eerily pale despite his livid movements.

“Go on, boy,” Hades says finally, and Jason heaves a sigh of relief.

He splays the draft paper across the floor, which reveals the map of Elysium that he copied and marked with areas that could use improvement. Jason mentions growing poplar trees for new arrivals to Elysium, who are still suffering PTSD from the war. He suggests building a small shrine to Nemesis—because despite being the goddess of retribution, even she would be proud of her children that have made it to Elysium—and brings up building a small temple to Persephone to thank her for the bountiful harvest.

Hades listens to all of this quietly, his eyes moving each time Jason points to the little Xs on his draft paper. It’s nothing like the diorama that Jason had given Apollo—he’d spent six months preparing that. Jason put all of his restless energy about being in Elysium into one piece of paper after Esperanza Valdez’s suggestion and squeezed his ideas out within hours.

“While I don’t _need_ a reason to celebrate my wife,” Hades says wryly, “Elysium has the _finest_ produce and flowers already. Why would you pray for a good harvest?”

“Not really praying for a good harvest, sir,” Jason says. After a few nervous minutes, he finds himself sitting cross-legged across the throne, as though he’s having a simple conversation with Nico in Cabin Thirteen. “Just…to _thank_ her. We wouldn’t even have the spring and summer if it weren’t for your love.”

The mention of their love story softens Hades’s expression. It makes Jason think of the gentle looks that Beckendorf and Silena exchange, as they got to stay together for all of eternity. “Your name?”

“Jason Grace, sir.”

Hades waves his hand and a different piece of parchment paper flies into his fingers. His dark eyes skitter over it silently and his eyebrows knit together. “You fought alongside my son and daughter.”

“Yes, sir. Hazel and Nico.” At the mention of the two Underworld siblings, Jason’s throat dries and his chest hurts.

“You helped my son,” Hades continues, and he lowers the piece of paper mid-way. With just his eyes visible, Jason thinks back to the same pools of eyes staring across from him around the campfire. The ones that were so black that they reflected pure light. “With accepting himself.”

Jason’s heart aches. “Yes, sir. I think he’s happy up there.”

Hades hums, and his tone is suddenly less cold than their first impression. “A god interfered with your death.”

“Um, yes, sir. Apollo’s currently being punished by—”

“I’m aware of my brother’s idea of a punishment.” Hades sighs warily and massages his temples. “The Fates are so powerful that not even the gods are allowed to interfere. Yet here you are, gone too soon because of Zeus’s usual, unorthodox punishment for his other son.”

_Gone too soon._ Jason’s sure the words were uttered many times during his funeral, but he’d spent twelve years in the Legion preparing for the day he would lay his life on the line. “I…chose to die, sir.”

“Yes, it says here that you sacrificed yourself in place of that Aphrodite girl.” Hades scrunches his face, clearly unsatisfied with Jason’s file, but doesn’t press on. “I remember you now. You tried to counsel my idiotic brother in Athens. Maybe if that was successful, we wouldn’t be in another war. I wouldn’t have to deal with even _more_ people filling my palace.”

“Um—wouldn’t you _want_ your palace to grow, sir?”

“Would I want my palace to _grow_?” Hades’s voice raises in disbelief and he throws a hand to the pile of parchment paper that comes to his knee. “Do you know how much paperwork that I have to fill out? What the ghouls tell me about the Fields of Punishment? Of Asphodel? In the last _three years alone_ , my brother’s actions have waged three wars! Overpopulation _is_ a _thing_ , you know!”

The Fury perched on his armrest suddenly waves a dark ebony fan over her master’s face, the anger evidently routine. Only moments ago, Hades’s disposition was as still as a corpse—and now the glow of his face billows with rage. The ghouls stir in his robes, whining and crooning at their own master’s temper.

“Don’t get me started on _them_ ,” Hades grumbles, and he flicks a finger at one ghost on his knee.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jason says. “Is there anything that I can do to help?”

Hades’s dark eyes flicker back to him in a way that makes Jason’s chest ache. His look of disinterest morphs ever-so slightly, his curiosity piqued. He waves his hand, and suddenly Jason’s draft paper is floating in front of the Lord of the Dead, like the previous parchments. “You think a fountain to Charon will be popular with my people.”

“He’s part of your myths,” Jason says. “Your tales are told on the surface, but everyone who dies—they’re _your_ people now. They should appreciate the king who provides for them. And his court and underlings.”

Once again, Hades studies him, tilting his head ever slightly to the right. Jason can’t help but think back to an instance where he showed his large poster board to Hades’s son, and how Nico’s own face showed approval at his small monopoly trinkets.

Hades concedes, turning to his lead Fury. “Give Jason Grace all of the supplies that he needs. Don’t spare _any_ cost.”

*

A part of Jason laughs at the idea of the King of the Dead and _Wealth_ being worried about costs, but he decides not to push his luck. He thinks back to how Hazel would casually summon riches—first on accident, then pointedly so.

Regardless, Jason isn’t the best at building things. He’s good at _sketching_ , like the scribbling what a fountain to Charon should look like, but as far as building one from the ground up, he’s clueless. Beckendorf offers his services in constructing the fountain and discusses the realistic dimensions that they could go for. Marisol, a daughter of Apollo from the Third Cohort, offers to sculpt Thanatos’s likeliness into a statue.

“I thought you were an archer,” Jason tells her, and she looks at him, embarrassed.

“I wanted to be a sculptor,” Marisol says, and on her tiny, twelve-year-old arm, the two stripes look too large. “But…you know. Growing up in the Legion and all.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, and he swallows the lump in his throat.

“What do you want to see?” she asks.

Jason thinks back to a cool summer night, sitting in Cabin Thirteen as Nico rebuffed the decorations in the Hades’ Cabin. How annoyed and exasperated Nico was at the Stoll Brothers for filling it with tacky Halloween decorations and gothic couture, trying to capture the essence of what they thought the Underworld looked like.

He'd laughed back then, because despite the many complaints, Nico was touched by how much effort they put into the decorations. And there were a _lot._ Somehow it led to the conversation on the best way to honor the _Underworldly_ gods, and Nico had given him a skeptical smile, wondering how long Jason was going to entertain the thought.

They’d ended up talking the entire night. Nico pulled out a map of Underworld and showing him where all of the Underworldly gods resided. A fake, white cobweb had taken residence in his mop of hair, like the lace veil of a bride. Jason couldn’t stop laughing every time Nico blew hair out of his face.

He thinks back to how Nico described crossing the Underworld in Charon’s boat, and how long, nimble fingers dragged across the scroll, and passes the idea along.

The fountain is made of deep obsidian, with moldings closest to the ground representing a river current. With Alecto’s consultation, Lee Fletcher paints tales of the goddess Styx, and Marisol builds a small statue to go in the center of the fountain. A child of Athena helps Jason weave a basket to place paper in, and he writes out clear instructions on a sign: _Fold a boat. Offer gratitude to the ferryman of the Underworld._

As time passes, Jason watches his fountain in action. Children who have died too young will follow his instructions, folding clumsy boats before slipping a small snack or what little coinage they have in the tiny folds, then cast them across the fountain. With the right engineering and the charm of an old child of Mercury, the paper boats float to the middle and magically disappear at Charon’s robes. He hears heroes thank the ferryman for their safe voyage and whispers to offer guidance for the ailing relatives and friends that were left behind.

Jason gets called back to the Underworld Palace before he knows it.

Hades shows an image of Charon picking out paper boats in the actual River Styx and tucking small trinkets and cookies in his pockets with a lovely smile. Charon folds each paper boat neatly and places them in an overfilled tackle box, pleased.

The King of the Underworld strokes his chin thoughtfully, and casts an approving glance in Jason’s direction. “What other ideas do you have, my boy?”

With a grin to his face, Jason plops onto the ground, cross-legged, and unfurls more draft paper.

*

At some point, Jason starts spending more time in the Underworld Palace than Elysium. He still makes sure to visit Esperanza and Emily when the urge strikes, but Alecto makes a point that carting him to and from the palace each “day” seems redundant. What’s the point in commuting when Lord Hades clearly enjoys his company?

_Clearly_ , he hears Alecto say, but it still astonishes Jason. There’s an unspoken incident where Jason called the King of the Dead _Nico_ —and Hades had simply smirked.

So, they prepare one of the many rooms in the palace for Jason, so he can retire when his spirit wanes (both mentally and physically.) Jason falls asleep in brooding silk sheets and the dimly lit, stained glass windows that glow with torchlight, and spends his mornings at Hades’s side, offering more improvements to Elysium and the Fields of Asphodel.

“You don’t have any ideas on how to improve the Fields of Eternal Punishment?” Hades asks him in one instance. “Any new ways to torture your mother?”

“Um, no sir.”

Eventually, Queen Persephone makes her way back to the Underworld, barging into Hades’ planning room to shower him in kisses. She gives Jason one steely look, debating his worth with a colder mien than the Underworld itself, and Hades dismisses it.

“Take him on a stroll through the gardens,” Hades suggests. “You might enjoy his company.”

At her husband’s recommendation, Queen Persephone ushers Jason through the vast expanse of her garden, which bloom immediately in her presence. Jason resists the urge to pick from the apple trees, or to disturb the flowers.

Queen Persephone spares him a look after he stares too long at the vibrant petals of her rose bushes. “Our father made the most _beautiful_ roses to capture my attention. All for Hades.”

“Our—? Oh.” Jason forgot they were technically brother and sister. He thinks back to his other godly sibling—Apollo—and wonders how Lester Papadopoulos is fairing in the surface world.

The Queen of the Underworld matches her husband’s usual demeanor, her lips tight and an eyebrow arched curiously in the air, like she hasn’t figured him out. “My husband said you wanted to build a shrine to me in Elysium.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t call me _ma’am_. I’m your sister,” Persephone chides. She smiles at him warmly, and Jason is blanketed with the emotions of springtime weather. A calm, sunny day with a delicate breeze. “Much like Apollo is our brother.”

A lump swells in Jason’s throat, and suddenly the Queen of the Underworld gives him the same look when Jason explained that he chose his fate. Hades had given him a moot look, explaining that mortals don’t _choose_ their fates.

“Would you like to learn?” Persephone waves a hand, and suddenly the aroma of flowers just swell in Jason’s nostrils.

“Oh,” Jason says, stunned. “I never thought I could. You know—being the son of the god of thunder and lightning and all.”

Persephone stares at him like he’s told a funny joke, then snorts. “The nymphs who raised our father also taught him plant magic. He’s the God of Thunder and Lightning because he _chose_ that. He _wanted_ it, just like he wanted to be a king. Much like his mistresses, he dabbles in a little bit of everything.”

Jason bites back a laugh at the last statement—but when he sees Persephone smiling, he lets it loose. “I, uh, never really thought about it like that.” 

“Then it’s decided,” Persephone declares in a way that reminds Jason of Nico. A glint appears in her eye and a gardenia blooms at the palm of her hand. “You’re learning plant magic.”

*

So, Jason’s days are filled discussing new constructs for Elysium, and his evenings are spent learning how to grow flowers. Persephone claps enthusiastically when he manages to cause a leaf to flutter from his hand, and he has to convince himself that it isn’t because of the winds.

_The_ day comes, and Jason realizes Hades isn’t in the throne room.

“Where is he?” Jason asks, and he doesn’t know why, but he’s upset.

Alecto stares at him somberly, perched on the right of Hades’s throne while her other sister perches on the left. “The war is over. They’re deciding on the Sun God’s fate.”

Jason grows numb.

“Will he be long?” Jason asks, and the Furies only shrug.

Alecto suggests toting him back to Elysium, and Jason can’t help but feel uncomfortable for the first time in the Palace of Hades, with both royals out on their own.

The body count in Elysium has risen. Jason has seen so many New Romans in Elysium that he’s not sure he’s still dead anymore. But he knows Hazel is still alive. She’s a praetor, apparently. Frank is still alive. Thalia is still alive. Percy, Piper, Annabeth, and Leo—all still alive.

Nico’s still alive and so is Will Solace—so Jason can only assume they protected each other. Jason grows rigid thinking of his own death.

_Gone too soon_ , Hades had told him.

_Didn’t tell him soon enough_ , Jason keeps thinking.

Having the New Romans there makes Jason feel better. He sees Dakota from the Fifth Cohort and they greet each other amicably—but there’s two years of unfamiliarity there that makes it hard for them to connect. After all, Jason didn’t quite _go back_ to Camp Jupiter after the Giant War. He stayed in Camp Halfblood, and then decided to go to an all-boys school in Pasadena to learn more about his mom. Try to figure out _why_ she was okay with letting a two-year-old boy go to the Wolf House all by himself.

Dakota cuts their conversation short and seeks out a boy named Castor. Siblings, he explains—the Roman and Greek children of Mr. D. They didn’t know each other in their lifetimes, but now they could spend the rest of eternity sharing stories about their father.

It only makes Jason miss Thalia more.

While the deceased reunite with their loved ones, Jason notices Esperanza and Emily with sad, guarded smiles on their faces. Their sons are still alive, and that’s _okay._

But in the sea of reunions, as Jason looks around at familiar and unfamiliar faces, he feels even more alone in Elysium.

*

Hades comes back after an unsurmountable amount of time. Time is _different_ in the Underworld, and Jason’s not sure if he’s spent weeks, months, or _years_ here now. He just knows that none of his friends are with him, and each day seems starkly even more bleak, no matter how the Queen and King of the Underworld entertain his company.

“Apollo has redeemed himself,” Hades tells him the next time Jason is in the palace. “He promises that you’ll never be plagued with illness, should you reunite again.”

“I’m already dead,” Jason points out, and Hades shrugs in an exasperated way that tells Jason that the King of the Dead hardly knows what to do with the Sun God himself. Jason finds himself growing quiet. “Did my father ask about me?”

Hades’ eyebrows knit together in a pitiful way. “I’m afraid it slipped his mind, my boy.”

Jason’s chest hurts. “Oh.” 

Persephone snorts derisively at her throne and scans her nails. “Don’t feel bad, brother. _I_ slip his mind all the time.”

*

Nico shows up not too long after that.

Jason’s in the middle of a rousing discussion with Persephone and Hades of where to grow the poplar trees in Elysium, when Nico appears from the darkness of the palace walls.

“Dad, I— _Jason_?”

The scrolls drop from Jason’s hands. He whirls around and is met with the sight of his old friend—dressed in a black bomber jacket, black plants, black t-shirt. Nico’s jaw is long and narrow, but no longer gaunt from days after Tartarus. He fills out his lithe body, his t-shirts no longer draping over him like a curtain. Through trimmed hair, Jason can see Nico’s face. There’s a mortal darkness to Nico’s eyes that reflect the golden embers of torchlight, and more expressiveness to his demeanor.

A glassiness shines over Nico’s orbs, and the soulfulness is hidden behind a careful, stoic mask for all but a second. He’s the first _mortal_ that Jason has seen in ages.

Jason’s hands grow slack at his side. He can’t get his feet to move. Nico stands not even ten feet away from him, but for some reason, Jason thinks it’s too far away. For all that he wanted to be around his friends, Nico is suddenly too far away and Jason is too stunned to reach forward. He’s not sure if it’s a dream or a nightmare—and while part of him wonders if he _could_ get nightmares after his heroic death. It wouldn’t surprise him.

Nico takes the first palpable step towards Jason, his hard demeanor faltering.

Jason watches as Nico’s boot hits the ground, and he thinks it’s much gentler than how hard his own heart used to beat in his chest. He breaks out of his trance, taking a few more steps forward to narrow their gap, but his body is still shaky.

“I—” Jason’s voice dies in his throat. “I really want to hug you right now. Is that okay?”

This Nico, with his hair just above his eyebrows and a fuller jaw and sterner face, feels miles away. But then his cheeks bloom an iridescent pink—a _warm_ pink, and he nods.

Jason throws his arms around Nico. At first, he doesn’t expect it to work—he’s gotten used to fazing through palace walls and not really _feeling_ things. Jason shouldn’t have _feeling_ anymore. Even when Esperanza ruffled his hair or Emily kissed his cheek, he felt the gesture, but he didn’t feel the warmth. All he could do is surmise from their maternal expressions.

But he feels the heat of Nico’s body against his own (did Nico get _taller_?) and the warmth of the crook of Nico’s neck against his cheek, and the blaze of Nico’s chest against his own. He feels Nico’s _heartbeat_ , and the melody is so sweet and rich that Jason wants to cry.

Nico is _alive_. Jason can _feel_ Nico breathing against him, and the mop of ebony hair actually _tickles_ against Jason, and Nico’s skin is _smooth_ against him.

“You’re so cold,” Nico whispers in his ear, shivering.

“You’re not,” Jason whispers back, and he holds back a sob. He feels Nico’s hands wrap around his shoulder blades—and Jason doesn’t know if it’s the touch, or Nico’s silent word, but he feels calm. At peace.

Behind them, Hades clears his throat. “Hello, my son.”

*

Jason’s never seen Nico interact with Hades before. He remembers the proud gleam in Hephaestus’s eyes after Leo and the God of Fire bested giants aboard the Argo II, and when Aphrodite gave Piper an excited hug after she finished sewing rose petals in Periboia’s eyes, so proud of everything that she accomplished. Poseidon had given Percy a boisterous clap on the shoulder and they had matching grins—and even his own father was proud of him for all of five minutes before Jason stood up for Apollo.

He watches from a distance as the King of the Underworld kindly talks to Nico on even ground, as equals. Nico doesn’t shy away—his gaze doesn’t fall to the floor, his stature doesn’t slouch. Nico’s shoulders are relaxed as he nods quietly to Hades’s voice, occasionally shooting a curious, worried glance in Jason’s direction. Each time it happens, Jason can’t help but feel a little lighter. His body tingles from the warmth— _living warmth_ that he’s felt for the first time since death.

Since even before death.

Jason hadn’t exactly made friends or dated anyone while he was in boarding school. His smile wanes as he remembers spending days after classes going straight back to his dorm room sketching out new temple ideas.

Then, Nico whisks him away and they find themselves sitting on a swinging bench in Queen Persephone’s garden, where Jason shows Nico the progress in his lessons: he summons a dandelion, plucks it from the ground, and hands it to a weary Nico.

Nico makes a face, as if stirring old, horrible memories, but Jason notes later that it never leaves his hand.

“That’s about all I can do,” Jason confesses. He tries not to stare as Nico’s hand grazes his own to accept the dandelion. If he doesn’t think too hard, then Jason can pretend he’s still alive, and Nico and he are sitting in the strawberry fields having a casual conversation while satyrs run around playing melodic sounds on their reed pipes.

“You have to want it,” Nico says, and his voice is _loud_ and _solid._

Jason gets lost in just hearing it, like when he’s in awe of Hades’ intonations. It vaguely reminds Jason of Piper’s charmspeak—a numbness in the back of his mind, followed by a daze that usually made him focus on nothing else but her voice.

But it’s different. Jason’s eyes glaze over for just a moment, and Nico’s dark gaze is as every bit as sobering and intense as his father’s. There’s an everlasting urge to _protect_ Nico. To follow his command, to do his bidding. Jason’s eyes narrow strongly at Nico’s lips, awaiting another order.

Then, Nico lets go of a breath, and Jason’s urge to follow Nico’s word suddenly leaves him. His head is dizzy. Could you get dizzy if you were dead?

Sanguine glows in Nico’s cheeks, vibrant against his pale skin, and he shakes his head in dismay. “You’re a ghost now. I’m going to have to be careful of what I say.”

Jason snaps out of his stupor. He looks at how close he is to the living demigod, his hand firm against the white wooden bench and face in Nico’s proximity. Nico doesn’t necessarily pull _away_ , but suddenly Jason feels self-conscious. He reels back, nervous, and summons another dandelion at his feet. He’d be lying if he said his voice didn’t crack. “What do you mean I have to want it?”

“You have to _want_ to make the fields grow,” Nico says—and Jason isn’t sure if he’s imagining it or not, but even Nico sounds flustered. “As much as you will the winds to blow or summon lightning.”

Jason can’t help but scoff. He twists the stem of his dandelion between his fingers. “There’s no reason for a storm in Elysium, unfortunately.”

Nico doesn’t respond right away. Jason looks over and finds himself at the end of Nico’s gentle gaze. Where there were once deep bags under his eyes are now gray lines that Jason doesn’t think will ever go away. They’re as prominent as every battle scar they’ve received in their battles.

“I’ve been, um, been helping your dad build new shrines and temples for his court down here,” Jason responds quietly. He’s lost in Nico’s gaze again—the way the hue of Nico’s eyes is as dark as graphite. He doesn’t think that it’s Nico’s command this time, or anything like charmspeak.

Jason thinks of the many sketches he’s made down in the Underworld, where he’s gotten so excited that he’d accidentally smear the black edges of his lines across pristine white paper. When he started sketching on his poster board back when he was alive, he used to get frustrated that he’d ruined a perfect picture.

But he’d gotten his hands dirty out of excitement after dreaming of new possibilities here. The black smudges on his hands were proof of his strides and _work_ , and he thinks that describes his relationship with Nico so well. _Work._

Nico’s ebony eyebrows knit together, and the edge of his lips etches into the same skeptical smile he gave Jason what feels so long ago. “My father told me. You’re restless down here, aren’t you?”

Restless probably describes him too well. Jason doesn’t want to think about that. He pulls his gaze away, trying hard not to get lost in the cadence of Nico’s voice, or the ease of Nico’s smile. It’s definitely not charmspeak, but it’s _something_. “Tell me how everyone’s doing.”

For some reason, Nico looks reluctant, but elaborates. He tells Jason how Piper is finishing her senior year in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. How Leo is happily traveling the world with Calypso between semesters at an Indianapolis school, and how Percy and Annabeth are happily at New Rome University. There’s pride in Nico’s voice when he mentions that Hazel and Frank are leading the Twelfth Legion together, and his voice grows tight as he mentions that Reyna joined the Huntresses.

“You know why, right?” Jason muses, ignoring how his chest wanes at the thought of his friends moving on without him.

Nico frowns. “Why?”

“Because Thalia has had a thing for her for months.”

Nico deliberately stops moving the bench with his feet. He blanches white, almost as pale as his father. “ _What_?”

Jason laughs, and it aches in his throat. He explains the many letters that went back and forth between Thalia and Reyna, which he’d called his sister’s love letters. The last time he said that (the last time they _spoke_ , he thinks, the pit of his stomach growing nauseous), she had smiled fondly and shrugged. Thalia was much more open about her heart than Jason ever was in his lifetime.

“But they swear off love,” Nico protests.

“Nico, they swear off _men._ ” Jason laughs a little louder as Nico’s eyes widen with shock—but then he notices how Nico’s hands are stiff around the dandelion between his fingers, and how Nico manages to look even paler.

“She never told me,” Nico whispers.

“Because we wanted to make sure _you_ felt safe,” Jason insists. He reaches out for a brief moment to squeeze Nico’s hand reassuringly and stops himself. Jason raises his gaze to meet Nico’s eyes—and he’s surprised to find Nico staring at his every motion. There’s no protest there. Jason squeezes Nico’s hand supportively and tries not to relish in how amazing it feels.

“We,” Nico repeats, his voice soft. His gaze narrows in Jason’s direction. He swallows hard, tilting his head in a way that Jason didn’t realize he missed so much, and there’s a quiet question under his vibrato.

“We,” Jason echoes.

“But…Piper?”

“I don’t like guys any less because I was with Piper,” Jason tells him, his own voice constricting in his voice. He just never had the chance to act on those feelings on guys. One guy in particular.

Nico’s gaze falls to their interlaced hands, and the red appears in his cheeks, and—

Oh. Jason pulls his own hand back, flustered.

They sit in silence, with a palpable space between them now. Jason resists the urge to go to Persephone’s pond and dunk his head in water until he can drown. Then he remembers he’s already dead and Nico could probably command him to sit back down or punch himself in the face instead. A miserable part of him wonders if he’s pushed Nico too far, and if this’ll be their last meeting. Jason had gotten away from Camp Halfblood for a _reason_ before, and just because half of that reason wasn’t sitting there with them didn’t make Nico any less smitten with someone else.

Nico clears his throat. “Tell me about what you’ve done so far.”

Jason takes their awkward lull and starts talking about his first project with Charon, and then his many others that followed. How Persephone was pleased that the gardens of Elysium now had a statue of her. How there’s a shrine to Hecate for how she somewhat mentored Hazel during their voyage on the Argo II. Nico seems charmed by each and every idea, and slowly, his statue relaxes again in Jason’s presence.

“These are all things we talked about,” Nico says, cutting Jason off before he can continue his ramblings.

Jason nods sheepishly, and he notices Nico arching an inquisitive eyebrow in the air.

“Elysium is supposed to fit the desires of everyone who enters it,” Nico says slowly, “yet you’ve spent the last year trying to figure out improvements.”

Jason falters. A year. It’s been a year since he’s been dead. A year since he was stabbed by Caligula, and…a year before Nico decided to visit him. Jason hadn’t even crossed Nico’s mind—Nico had been there to visit his _dad._

“Jason?” Nico calls him gently, but Jason’s mind spirals.

He’s spent a year building temples and shrines and small monuments for Elysium. A year, while Leo and Calypso are flying around the world, free as birds, and Piper finishes her last years in Tahlequah, while Mellie and Coach Hedge raise baby Chuck, probably not even _thinking_ about him, and Percy and Annabeth attend college in New Rome. Jason has no doubt Percy fit in just fine with the New Romans. Nico mentions a year so _casually_ , like a _fact_ , but it’s felt like eternity for Jason, and—

“Snap out of it,” Nico orders, and Jason does just that.

Jason sits erect in his seat, noticing a hand on his knee. He cradles his head in his hands and then looks over to the look of concern on Nico’s face. “I’m—sorry, what?”

Nico stares at him suspiciously. “You had a faraway look on your face.”

“I’m…” Jason’s words dry in his throat and he cradles his head once more. “Is this…normal? To feel so _unhappy_ with being dead?”

Nico’s eyebrow raises, and Jason blurts out the rest. How unsatisfied he’s felt since arriving at Elysium, how he just feels miserable every day that he’s been in Elysium, and while there’ve been happy moments with Esperanza and Emily, it just makes him wonder what could’ve been with his own mother _more_ , which makes him miss Thalia, which makes him miss the life that he created for himself at Camp Halfblood. Building temples and shrines have made him feel more _complete_ , but at the end of the day, it’s just busy work as he waits for time to pass and feel less alone.

The hand on Jason’s knee squeezes gently, and Jason doesn’t know if he finds it comforting. He stares down at his own legs, and they’re faintly opaque next to Nico’s dark jeans.

“I never fit in with the Romans,” Jason says, and his voice feels strained. “Because my changes were too radical. But I was too militant for the Greeks. And I tried to be _both_ , but that still wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough for Piper, either. Now I’m _dead_ and in the happiest place in the world, and I’m still not happy.”

“It sounds like you’re living with a lot of regrets about your past life,” Nico says quietly, and he eyes Jason suspiciously, his thumb rubbing soothing circles at the fold of his knee. Jason thinks he’s seen Hazel do it before for Frank, back when he was still alive.

“But is that _normal_?”

Nico contemplates his words. “It’s normal to feel sad dying before your loved ones. Charlie was sad that he died before Silena, but he was willing to wait. You just have to wait longer.”

That was the thing. Jason doesn’t know how much longer that he _can_ wait. He’s happy when he gets to spend time with Esperanza and Emily, and when Hades is willing to spare him more time in the day than his father ever did, or when Persephone wants to be a doting big sister. But—it’s not the life that he _wants._

And at the end of the day, Jason goes home alone. He still doesn’t know the sister he never grew up with, he slipped from Zeus’s mind after Apollo’s redemption, and his own mother was being tortured for parental _neglect._ Even in death, Jason doesn’t get to see his mother.

“You know the worst part?” Jason laughs glumly and leans back in the swing. “Silena said there was no _depth_ in my relationship with Piper. That it was all charmspeak. Cupid was right, it wasn’t true love. And I died never knowing what that is.”

At the mention of Cupid, Nico peels his hand back from Jason’s knee. Another frustrating sensation just boils in Jason’s stomach—another reminder that he’s not _happy._ He glances at Nico from the corner of his eye. There’s ire glinting in Nico’s dark eyes, but not as much anger or despair as that day in Split. And despite all of Jason’s vexations, Nico being able to accept himself will always be one of Jason’s favorite outcomes from the war.

“I was just hoping that when I died,” Jason says quietly, “I could be at peace.” 

“If you feel unsatisfied,” Nico says, and his voice is brittle, “you could choose reincarnation. You could—”

“No.” Jason dismisses the idea immediately. “That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want, Jason?” Nico asks quietly.

He wants to not be dead. But Jason had made a choice a long time ago. He folds his hands over the dandelion in his fingers, which has since crumbled with his vapid movements. The seeds have all drifted away, paving a new path in the Underworldly gales, while the stem is wrinkled and furled in his fists.

“I don’t think it matters anymore,” Jason murmurs quietly.

They fall into another silence, and Jason pretends not to notice the look on Nico’s face—the one that confirmed all of his worries since coming to Elysium. That he was _weird_ for not being happy or at peace. Reyna had given him the same look when he tried to rename the Legion, and Annabeth had never liked his approach during Capture the Flag. It was too militant and _Roman_ , she’d say.

“I was upset with how they buried you.”

Jason cocks his head back to Nico. Nico fiddles with the sword at his beltloop, and Jason suddenly dreads the thought of touching it. He realizes now, that as a ghost, that Nico could just absorb his essence. Nico could do a lot of things to him now, since he was dead.

“They gave you a Roman funeral,” Nico mumbles, and there’s irritation in his voice. “Thalia is Greek. She didn’t know all of the Roman traditions. They held your ceremony under the Jupiter Optimus Maximus, but you were never happy there.”

His eyes glint, his lips pursed into a straight line.

“At the very least, they could have carted your body to Long Island. Leo has Festus, but he chose to take Piper to Tahlequah instead,” Nico continues, and the ire in his voice grows. He stares at Jason for a moment, as though trying to contain his irritation. “They were too upset to attend your funeral.”

Jason’s chest is tight and hard.

“They insisted Apollo take you to New Rome,” Nico continues, and he wrinkles his nose.

“Would you have buried me in Long Island?” Jason asks, his voice raspy in his throat.

Nico looks him dead in the eye, cool and steady in a way that almost makes Jason jump. He looks less like the teenaged boy that caught Jason off guard earlier when he came into the palace, and more like Hades’ consul. Nico studies Jason’s face.

“I would have cremated you,” he says finally. With death as the subject, Nico’s words feel as casual on his tongue as Jason advising Hades where to build new shrines. “You spent twelve years bound to your duties at New Rome. And then Hera threw you into the winds and you were tied to the Prophecy of Seven, so you stayed at Camp Halfblood. Then—” Nico’s voice strains, and he darts his eyes elsewhere. “You left because you wanted to know more about your mother. Since Thalia wouldn’t tell you more.”

Jason’s eyebrows knit together. “What would you have done with my ashes?”

“Spread them in the wind,” Nico finishes. “So you’d be free to go wherever you wanted.”

Jason studies the intense look in Nico’s eyes. He wonders briefly if Nico is doing that thing again— _commanding_ him as a ghost to feel as mystified as he does, but it’s a fleeting thought. He sits there, watching the dark graphite of Nico’s eyes and the tiny smudges of gray that lined the bottom of his eyes, even a year after Tartarus. A year after peace.

“Do you think that’s what I would’ve wanted?” Jason whispers. He didn’t think cremation and ashes were an option for him—but then again, he didn’t think being _both_ Greek _and_ Roman were an option for him a year ago, either.

Nico laughs softly under his breath—a quaint, nervous hum. “I think it’s more important to know what _you_ wanted, Jason.”

Jason debates his words, and he suddenly feels a weight lifting from his chest. “I didn’t want a ceremony in front of the Temple of Jupiter. Not after he thought I scorned him.”

Not after Jupiter continued not giving him the time of day, after giving Apollo his godship back.

Nico hums in agreement, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “I’m not the biggest fan of him either.”

A laugh bellows from Jason’s throat, sounding hollow and brittle without the shell of a body—but suddenly he feels lighter. For all of his worries and ministrations of not being happy in Elysium, one conversation with Nico di Angelo, the son of the Underworld, makes him feel a little less on edge. Jason could get lost in the way Nico smiles at him.

“This,” Nico declares, as they fall into a relaxed cadence, “is the longest that I’ve been able to talk about the dead in a while.”

“You’re also talking _to_ the dead.”

Nico’s smile grows more rigid, and Jason briefly wonders if it’s _too soon_ for death jokes. Instead, Nico humors him, leaning back against the swing and letting their feet sway above the grass once more. He heaves a sigh—but Jason doesn’t quite know to what. “Will always tried to get me to talk about something else. To work on my social skills.”

Jason has no idea why. With time passing differently in the Underworld, he doesn’t know if this conversation has lasted a few hours or a few _months_. But he’s always let time slip away when talking to Nico—it always made him feel more relaxed and less restrained.

He gets a pang in his chest at the mention of Will. Jason tried really hard not to think about Will Solace and Nico together—it only made him more confused as to why he couldn’t bury his negativity and be _happy._

“How is Will?” Jason asks, despite his feelings.

Nico’s smile fades. He glances at Jason from the corner of his eye, his hands folded over his lap and his dandelion still perfect between his fingers.

“We broke up a while ago,” Nico says quietly.

Oh. “How…long is a while ago?”

Jason tries hard not to read into Nico’s next look.

Ebony eyebrows furrow together, and there’s a flicker of ire in the depths of Nico’s eyes—a moodiness that used to demand Jason leave him alone aboard the Argo II after Croatia. But it ceases, Nico’s lips burrowing into a tight, thin line. And Nico tries to pass a shrug off nonchalantly. “A little bit after you died.”

*

Nico fills the slots of Jason’s schedule when Jason isn’t discussing improvements about Elysium with Hades or learning plant magic with Persephone. He shows up every now and then, watching and occasionally offering inputs on the designs to shrines, and observes with amusement when Jason tries to summon a bush of flowers, but raises one iris instead.

Sometimes Nico and Jason just sit together, listening as Hades idly lists off stories of grandeur before kingship. Jason watches how Nico and Hades interact so casually, and finally understands why Nico is so smart. Why Nico is so numb to his lineage. All stories have _ghosts_ at some point—and Nico’s adopted that aspect when convening with the dead.

Every time he mentions Zeus, Hades gives Jason a meaningful look. Hades describes Zeus as a god that was bound to a sense of duty to save his siblings and slay Kronos, and how frightened he was before all of that power went to his head. Despite the frustration of being forgotten by his father yet again, Jason can’t help but feel a little better. Zeus and he were the same at some point. They just diverged in different paths when Zeus became King of the Gods and Jason became, well, dead.

Each visit ends with Nico returning to the surface, where Jason can’t be. For Hazel, for Frank, for Camp Halfblood. Jason soaks up as much as he can when he goes to hug Nico goodbye—the warmth of Nico’s flesh, the rhythm of Nico’s heartbeat, and he knows it’s selfish. Hades, in contrast, claps a hand on Nico’s shoulder and bids him farewell until next time. Persephone always sends him off with a cereal.

The Queen of the Underworld makes brief mention to it one day, following Nico’s departure. They stand in her vibrant garden, resuming the lessons that halt every time Jason excitedly sees Nico. She waves a hand, and pomegranates suddenly swell at the branches. She splits one in half and extends a hand expectantly towards Jason.

“I don’t think I’m at that level yet,” Jason confesses, penchant. He pauses before he can get swept away scraping at the seeds. “Am I allowed to eat this?”

Persephone rolls her eyes. “I’m the _queen._ You’re allowed to do whatever I allow you.”

“Don’t you…hate pomegranates?” Jason’s fingers flutter with the tiny seeds and he rests one on his tongue. It explodes like a water balloon between his teeth, and he tastes the sweet tartness against his tongue. It’s succulently sweet and different from what fruit he’s had before—but not necessarily bad. “After Hades tricked you into eating them?”

This time, both of Persephone’s eyebrows raise in the air, and she looks offended at the suggestion.

“Little brother,” Persephone says, “I’m the _Queen of the Underworld._ ”

Jason soaks in her title, which is as sobering as the tartness on his mouth. He looks around the vast fields of fruits and trees and the colorful flowers that go on for miles. Without the sun, Jason doesn’t think they should last even a day. Maybe that was why Persephone had a soft spot for Jason’s death after helping Apollo. The sun helped keep her plants alive. Without Persephone, the spring and summer wouldn’t exist.

“Do you think I’d let myself get _tricked_ into becoming royalty?” Persephone asks wryly.

“I…” Other than the fact that Zeus helped create the thornless roses to garner Persephone’s attention, he hadn’t thought about it much. Jason was still astounded it was one of the few times that his father would get along with Hades—even if it ended with Zeus demanding Persephone back.

His train of thought halts there. Zeus demanded Persephone to come back to the surface world, to quell Demeter.

“You put your foot down after you fell in love with Hades,” Jason says. “Zeus interfered with your fate and you denied him that power.”

The edges of Persephone’s lips curl in a brooding way that reminds Jason of Nico, but her eyes wither into softness. “I fell in love with a benevolent god and I _wanted_ to be with him. To quell my mother’s anger, my love was willing to part with me, even if it broke his heart.”

Jason’s chest aches. He swallows the pomegranate seed, but it burns down his throat.

“So I ate six seeds and did what I wanted,” Persephone continues. “I went from being some minor springtime goddess and another twig on our father’s family tree to becoming a _queen,_ little Jason.”

Jason hides a smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever been considered _little._ Under the iron gaze of Persephone, however, they’re brother and sister. Not just a queen and a ghost at her mercy.

“Thus,” Persephone finishes, “I am appreciated as the Iron Queen during the winter down below, and the mortals are grateful when I offer them a bountiful spring and harvest.”

“Your love with Hades is the reason the seasons exist,” Jason finishes for her. He pops another pomegranate seed in his mouth—a sixth one, just like Persephone, and stares at the red juices staining the tips of his fingers. He remembers the unyielding, menacing glance Hades gave him, and how quickly it softened when Queen Persephone was mentioned.

“Correct, little brother,” Persephone hums. “Do you know why I’m telling you this story?”

“Because I tragically misinterpreted your love story?” Jason guesses. “My apologies.”

The edge of Persephone’s rosy lips curl into a smirk, and the curve of her face is accented with the many shadows of the Underworld. “Because I’m wondering just how much _you_ want to be with my stepson, Jason Grace.”

If Jason could die a second time, it’d be from choking on a pomegranate seed.

Instead, he just turns really, really red and the hilltop hums as Persephone laughs.

*

Nico summons Jason to the surface world on his birthday. July 1st.

The warmth of sunlight slips past him, creating no shadow at his feet. The grass doesn’t dip under the weight of his shoes, and the winds pass through him. Jason feels the phantom pain of where he got stabbed—an ache between his shoulder blades that gets more intense with each passing moment.

“Nico, I feel different,” Jason says, his hand grazing over his heart. It’s hard to describe. There’s a nagging at the pit of his stomach that pokes and prods him from the inside.

Nico’s eyes move up and down, scanning Jason’s glowing essence, but he doesn’t seem concerned. “It’s because you’re a ghost. You’re a spirit in the realm of the living, so your body is trying to call you back to the Underworld. You…”

His voice trails off.

“I what, Nico?” Jason asks, and he clutches at his chest now, the pain chewing at his insides.

“You don’t belong here,” Nico finishes uncomfortably. He averts his gaze elsewhere, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

“Oh.”

To his surprise, Nico reaches out and wraps a hand around Jason’s wrist. The touch is overwhelmingly warm compared to Jason’s cold essence, and he gives Jason an affirmative look. “You’re here because I want you to be here. That’s all that matters.”

Jason swallows hard, and he thinks the nagging in his chest wanes at least a little. His gaze flitters to Nico’s lips again, awaiting a command.

Red flushes in Nico’s cheeks and he unfurls their fingers. “Let’s go. They’re waiting for us.”

The gathering is in Frank’s praetor house, which Jason awkwardly remembers as his own before Juno had swapped Percy and him. Under Frank’s care, the house is just as neat and orderly as Frank’s cabin was back in the Argo II. Jason gets misty eyed as he enters through the front door, and the many smells of savory foods and desserts make him hungry.

He tries to hold it together as their old crew leaps out between twin columns and yell, _SURPRISE!!_

Jason sees the painted _Happy Birthday_ banner hanging across the living room wall. There’s a cake sitting in the center of a table, followed by an assortment of small hors d’oeuvres and colorful snacks, like the brownies he loved so much growing up.

It _feels_ like a normal birthday party, but then Piper and Leo try to throw their arms around him, and he passes right through them.

“Oh,” Leo says, and his eyes glisten momentarily before he clears his throat. “Dead. Right. Duh.”

Jason looks at Leo. Leo’s mane of curly hair looks as untamable as ever. He still has the wily look of a mad inventor, but there’s a calm in his eyes, like he’s found peace. Leo even _fills out_ the military jacket that Calypso had sent back with him last summer— _two_ summers ago.

“Dude,” Jason whispers, getting misty eyed again in front of his living, breathing best friend. “You’re alive.”

“Dude,” Leo echoes, and his expression breaks. “You’re not.”

Jason looks up into Piper’s face, but she averts her teary eyes and her hands tremble at her side. Leo reaches out to comfort her (they’re the same height now, Jason realizes. Leo’s shot up at least three inches) and Jason can’t help the ache in his chest.

The mood of the party skews after that. Jason notices the elated looks on his friends’ faces make a visible shift. Percy is holding Annabeth’s hand, so they aren’t trembling. Hazel and Frank have strong smiles, but once Jason makes eye contact with them, they falter. Jason looks around the room, and the uncomfortable feeling in his chest seems to grow.

“Where are Thalia and Reyna?” Jason asks.

Unlike Piper and Leo, Nico’s hand perches at his shoulder, and he flashes a somber, sorrowful look. “Huntress duties. They couldn’t get away.”

Oh. “Okay,” Jason says, and he makes a note to ask Nico to help him write a letter to his sister before he leaves.

He can’t eat the food of the living, he finds out. As real as the pomegranate was in the Underworld, Jason’s hand passes through a slice of pizza as he tries to pick it up. Instead, he sits at the end of the table with the pontifex robes pooling in his lap. The ache in his chest is more palpable now, like a physical force the longer that he’s in the living world. He watches as Annabeth and Percy chatter, in every bit in love as Silena and Beckendorf gushed, and observes as Hazel and Frank quietly share bites of food, occasionally slipping an extra hors d’oeuvre on Nico’s plate when he isn’t looking.

Leo and Piper sit immediately to the left of him, occasionally interjecting in the conversation—but otherwise stay silent. Once in a while, he catches his friends looking in his direction. When he stares back, they jump. Jason notices that their eyes are dim, and their smiles don’t quite brighten the room.

At some point, Nico reaches across the table and dumps a brownie in front of Jason.

Jason blinks.

“I owe you an offering for summoning you,” Nico explains, and his gaze narrows at Jason, concerned.

The logic feels backwards, but when Jason reaches to touch the brownie this time, it lifts between his fingers. His eyebrows knit together, lips set into a firm line, and he slowly eats it. The chocolate is rich and decadent on his tongue, but it feels like cement going down his throat.

When he looks up, there’s a wave of relief that flourishes across the room. Jason keeps eating anyway, pretending each bite doesn’t feel like he’s choking.

Eventually, the room grows sad. Nico had warned Jason that it’d be an emotional affair. It’s why they waited so long before summoning him. Saying goodbye the first time is hard—but seeing the dead again? It could break some people.

(When he’d mentioned that, he averted his gaze, and Jason thought best not to ask.)

Hazel explains that she’d been having nightmares leading up to his death. She heroically recounts Frank’s story about how he avenged Jason’s death by killing Caligula, and Jason’s eyes swell with tears.

“Frank,” Jason whispers, “you did that for me?”

He’s glad that Frank isn’t afraid to cry. Frank’s eyes leak first. He does his best to maintain his composure, but his entire body shakes with emotion.

“Um,” Frank says thickly, “we also built all of the temples you had planned in the same weekend. We were inspired.”

Hazel laughs quietly, her voice soulful as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “Nico helped refine some details that weren’t in your diorama.”

At the mention of her brother, Jason turns to see Nico shyly eying his plate. Red blooms in Nico’s cheeks, and he awkwardly raises his gaze to meet Jason’s gaze. The knot in Jason’s stomach momentarily unfurls.

“Some of your notes didn’t make sense by themselves,” Nico mumbles, “but—”

“We used to talk about them all night long,” Jason finishes for him, “back when I was alive.”

There’s a shift in the mood again, and the praetor house feels somber. Jason thinks back to the slight joke he made the first time Nico and he reunited, and how the mood had shifted back then, too. It’s easy to have a casual conversation, but hard to find the morbid line that makes other people feel uncomfortable. Jason wonders if that’s how Nico’s felt after all these years—being a son of Hades is literally in his blood, so _death_ is a natural conversation for him. No wonder it would frustrate him that Will Solace would chalk it up to a lack of social skills.

Luckily, Nico turns his head and nods.

“I told you man,” Percy says, and he claps a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “I’m proud we’re related.”

He looks like he wants to reach out and put a hand on Jason’s shoulder too, before remembering that they can’t touch him. Percy’s gaze casts a sad, miserable look that Jason so desperately wants to ask about. But he thinks he understands. Percy wishes it was him who died.

_Percy had a mom, a stepdad, and a **sister** to get back to_, Jason reminds himself. Percy had love to go back to. People who cared about him.

Leo tries to dispel the awkward tension. “Speaking of being dead—did you guys have to bury him dressed like that? You look like one of those spirits of New Rome—what do you call them, lards?”

“Lares,” Hazel corrects, and she shoots him a warning glance.

Jason looks down to the pontifex robes billowing at his feet. He feels the brownie hit the bottom of his stomach, like a cinderblock falling on asphalt, and the same, pained feeling from this morning resurfaces. The ache that Nico said was the Underworld trying to call his spirit back. But it’s between his shoulder blades, where Caligula stabbed him twice, and it’s his heart, which has been hollow and empty since he reached Elysium. Every emotion he feels up on the surface feels rawer and _alive_ —including the frustrations he’s had ever since dying.

“You weren’t even there,” Jason says suddenly. “You didn’t attend my funeral.”

The mood shifts again. Jason doesn’t have Underworldly powers, but it suddenly feels like the room is as dark as the corner of his eyes.

Leo’s stature wavers in his seat—and Jason doesn’t think he’s ever gotten angry at Leo before. He wanted to come up to the surface world and relay everything that Esperanza and Emily said to him down below, but the anger is suddenly at the forefront of his brain and his chest, pushing at the dam that held back his emotions. 

“Jason,” Piper suddenly says, and Jason realizes it’s the first time she’s addressed him since he arrived. Her eyes are glassy with tears. “Leo escorted me back to Tahlequah. I couldn’t—I couldn’t bear to stick around for your funeral. It felt too real.”

“Piper, I’m _dead_.” Jason waves to his opaque body, and the robes billow inorganically against his form. “Is this not real enough for you?”

He’s never raised his voice at Piper, either. She stares back at him, taken aback as he scowls, and she narrows her gaze.

“Why don’t you calm down,” Piper says slowly, “and we can talk about this civilly?”

There’s a way that she speaks that’s smooth and silky in a way that used to make goosebumps rise against Jason’s arms. Used to make his heart beat faster. He’d forget his own name when Piper spoke, and he always struggled to please every which command.

Charmspeak, Jason realizes, and his rage thickens. He’s dead, and Piper is still trying to charmspeak him.

“No,” he snaps. He goes to slam his fists into the table, but they faze through the mahogany surface instead. His jaw tightens and he stares at both his friends with anger. “Leo, I stood there and did nothing while you _died_! We spent _months_ trying to find you! I never got to see you again, and you couldn’t _watch me get buried?_ ”

Leo doesn’t argue. His eyes are wide and his shoulders are suddenly at his ears. Piper’s hand flies over his immediately, and she matches Jason’s height by standing up.

“ _Jason_ ,” Piper snaps back, “ _sit down!”_

“ _NO!”_ The dam _breaks_ , and he feels all of the rigid emotions of rage and frustration as they pour out into his chest, burning against his heart. “I took a spear to the heart for you! _Twice!_ I—I spent a _year_ trying to be the perfect boyfriend for you, and then you _dumped_ me and let everyone think it was _my_ fault!”

Piper’s hard demeanor falters, finally. Jason used to be proud of the fact that she was a daughter of Aphrodite that wielded the power of love, but now his chest aches at the realization that his own heart was just being played with.

“Piper,” Leo suddenly says, and he turns his head, his expression suddenly dimming. “Mellie told me Jason broke up with _you._ ”

She pales, and suddenly, their friends look more confused. Moments before, Jason thinks Annabeth would have jumped to Piper’s aid. He thinks Hazel would have threatened to send him straight back down to the Underworld—but they now look at their best friend with numb confusion.

Jason doesn’t want to _feel_ this anger, but it keeps _growing_.

“You asked me for _six months_ if I loved you over Reyna!” Jason swallows thickly. He keeps trying to leverage himself against the table, but his hands continue to faze through the hard surface, while his entire body swells with anger.

He looks between Leo and Piper, and his heart hurts. Piper looks more beautiful now than she did before, so confident in herself as a Cherokee woman and a child of Aphrodite. Leo looked at peace with himself before, and nothing like that fifteen-year-old kid that was afraid he’d never find a family. These were the two people who started him on his new journey away from New Rome. The ones that made him finally feel like he could _be_ himself.

“I _chose_ you,” Jason says, his voice shriveling in his throat. “I chose _both_ of you. _I_ chose to be at Camp Halfblood because of the both of you, and yet—yet you were okay with me being buried in New Rome, away from you, and you couldn’t be there for me?”

Leo tries to place a hand over Jason’s own, but it hits the mahogany table. His eyes flitter from the table to Jason’s eyes for a moment. “Look, man—”

“Or were we really just friends because of the Mist?” Jason asks.

Leo’s mouth clamps shut, his eyebrows knitting together. He looks small, like the day Jason first met him. Smaller.

“Jason,” Annabeth finally interjects. The gray of her eyes glisten, and her voice is as hard and stable as they’ve always been. “There was a _war_ going on. We couldn’t all be there at once. Communications were cut off. Do you think any of us actually _wanted_ you to die?”

The thing is, Jason _knows_ there’s truth in her words. He’s wrestled with that logic ever since finding himself in Elysium. He looks at her now, noticing the red in the corners of her gaze, and knows that Annabeth has cried tears over his death. They all had.

But the rage keeps coming, unearthing from him, and the raw emotion is the most he’s felt since he was _alive_ , spilling out of him like a broken fountain.

“Why didn’t you ever trust me?” Jason asks instead. “I’m your _best friend’s little brother_ , and you _never_ cared to get to know me.”

The change of subject matter is enough to befuddle Wisdom’s daughter. Her expression pales, just as Piper’s did, and like **always** , Percy jumps to her aid.

“Hey, man,” Percy says, and his voice holds a deep warning. A storm sparks in his sea green eyes, and with the echo of his corporeal body, Percy sounds twice as menacing. “We all fought together on the Argo II. Whatever trust issues you think you have with Annabeth are moot—”

“Of course you’re defending her,” Jason snaps, and he laughs bitterly. He touches his head when he remembers that he can actually make contact with _himself_ , and he scowls at Percy, too. “Don’t you ever wonder why you had an _anchor_ when you lost your memories, while I had no one?”

Percy halts.

Jason remembers the power struggles of the Legion. He remembers Augur Octavian always trying to weave his way through the ranks with manipulation, and how everyone looked to him for guidance because he was the _son of Jupiter_ , for godsake, but never saw what he did: a scared little boy who Lupa insisted needed to leave his fears behind and _conquer_.

He must’ve left the rest of his emotions behind, too. Abandoned them back at the Wolf House for the sake of being in the Legion. Abandoned, like _he’s_ felt for ages. By his mother, by his father, by a sister he didn’t know he had, by his _two best friends,_ who wanted him to be more like himself and less like the perfect son of the King of the Gods.

“Jason.” Nico’s hand flies over his, and for the first time, someone makes contact. Reaches him.

Jason freezes the moment Nico’s voice flutters into his ears. He looks around briefly to assess the situation, and the words suddenly die in his throat. Piper has a hand over her mouth, as if blocking out charmspeak before it could happen. Her eyes are filled with tears, while Leo’s mouth hangs open, like he’s trying to ease the situation, but can’t. Percy sports the same look as before coming to Annabeth’s aid—dark and outraged, but not at Jason. At the situation. Annabeth’s face shrivels, and she desperately looks like she’s trying not to cry.

Hazel and Frank, the only two people who he hadn’t spurned, stare back at him with worry.

Jason turns his head a degree to meet his master’s, and Nico’s eyes are hard. He’s the only one that doesn’t look like he’s at a loss. Instead, Nico’s demeanor echoes Persephone’s Garden, when Jason explained that he wasn’t happy in Elysium. Back then, Jason had thought that it was because Nico thought he was weird for not liking Elysium. Now he isn’t sure.

“We’re going to take a walk,” Nico declares. He stands from his seat, sharing a meaningful look at Hazel and Frank, who heave a sigh of relief. “Please excuse us.”

“You couldn’t do that earlier?” Leo mumbles miserably.

He quickly shuts up as both Nico and Hazel glare at him.

*

Nico doesn’t tell him to calm down, or command him to sit still. So instead, Jason finds himself hostile and on edge of their surroundings as Nico drags him across the via principalis. Nico’s hand burns over Jason’s own, and Jason miserably thinks about how _cold_ Nico used to feel when they hugged. When Jason was still _alive._

And Jason’s still angry. The pit of his stomach feels like it’s blasting with rage, and the phantom pains in his shoulders feel like venom. That overwhelming urge to protect Nico keeps coming back to him, buzzing in his mind and trying to shout louder than his anger at his friends, but he doesn’t know which side is succeeding.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jason says in frustration. “They deserved to hear all of that.”

To his surprise, Nico whirls around. His expression is still calm, but it’s suddenly as dark as it was on the Argo II, when Nico was close to the zenith of his powers after Tartarus, after accepting so much doom and grief. “Do you really feel like that?”

“I—” A third voice suddenly enters Jason’s mind, and reverberates against his brain. Jason stops and stares at Nico in confusion. “Nico, what’s happening to me?”

The look reappears over Nico’s gaze, and his lips purse together. “Those unhappy feelings that you told me about in my stepmother’s garden. I think they’ve amplified because you’re on the surface world.”

“But I’m _dead._ No one can touch me, and I can’t touch food, or other people—”

“And you’re living with a lot of regret and unrest,” Nico interjects. “These are feelings that you had before you died. Now that you’re a ghost, they’re attacking you full force like you’re still alive. There’s a reason why spirits go _mad_ like _maniae,_ Jason. They can’t handle what they never achieved before they died. The regret is too powerful.”

Can’t handle what they never achieved. Jason’s mind clears for just a moment, and he recalls all of the looks had spawned once he yelled with rage. He was bitter that Leo had been alive this entire time, but he was relieved that his best friend was safe. He was angry that he could never be enough for Piper, even if Silena told him it was primarily because of charmspeak. He was upset that Thalia had found a new life and a new family that he couldn’t fit in—but he understood why she needed to leave her past behind. To her, he was already dead a long time ago.

The rage spikes again in Jason’s stomach, but it fades when he looks back at Nico’s face. The realization hits him hard.

For all that he missed his friends and felt alone, he’d just yelled at all of them. Had he regretted not doing that before he died?

Maybe he regrets not expressing himself more. He definitely regrets how hurt they all look.

“What can I do to fix this?” Jason whispers, and his own voice feels ghostly in his ears.

Nico stare at him skeptically. “Maybe if we get you back to the Underworld, we can get those emotions under control—”

“No.” The word leaves Jason’s mouth before he can help himself. He presses a hand to his temple and squeezes his eyes shut. His head _hurts_ , his heart _hurts_ , his stomach _hurts._ Everything hurts but he’s supposed to be _dead._ But the anger in him has made him feel more alive than before, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to part with it yet. The feeling of being alive.

“Then your other option is to go back there and talk things out—”

“ _No,”_ Jason says with more vivacity, and his throat burns again. He opens his eyes and is met with Nico’s own frustration bubbling before his eyes. It dwindles after a calming breath—or Nico tries to make it look like it does.

“Jason,” Nico says, his voice even, “you’re not giving me a lot of options here.”

“You want to ship me back to the Underworld and _then what_?” Jason shouts. He rips his hand out of Nico’s grasp, glaring angrily at Nico, and the frustrations bubble again. He feels like an overfilled pot of water, continuously boiling on a stovetop and letting everything spill. “I sit at a window like I always do, watching you leave until next time?”

Of all people, Jason expects Nico to bite back. _Especially_ because he’s dead now, and at the mercy of Nico. Instead, Nico blinks at his words, confounded.

“You’re the _only_ friend that I get to see,” Jason says. He stares at Nico at eye-level, no longer having to crane his neck in order to do so. They were celebrating his what, seventeenth? _Eighteenth_ birthday? “And you never come by often enough. Do you know how much it hurts not being with you?”

So much time has passed, and every mortal second that Jason has to spend by himself makes him feel more miserable. He thinks about the inches that Nico’s grown, and his chest hurts even more.

“Why did you wait a year to see me?” Jason asks desperately. He doesn’t know if it’s the anger from earlier, but there’s pain there. _So much_ pain watching Nico’s figure dissolve into the shadows and leaving a hole in Jason’s chest worse than Caligula’s spear. “Why did you leave me down in Elysium?”

“How dare you even ask me that,” Nico snaps, his voice tight, “when you left me _first?_ ”

Jason pulls out of his ministrations and is taken aback by what he sees. Nico had been reserved and calm since they reunited, but suddenly, Jason sees what he was in his friends’ look earlier: red in Nico’s eyes, trembling fists, and an angry scowl. Despite the burning heat of Jason’s hate, Nico’s sudden glower is like ice water, dousing Jason’s flames. The tears in Nico’s irises ripple as he glares, and his entire body shakes.

Jason looks at all of Nico, and not just at his lips for a command. It takes his attention even more than the son of Hades’ words do.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers, the flames suddenly dying in his stomach, “What do you mean?”

Nico’s lips curl into a bitter smile, and it mimics how Jason felt earlier when he felt the words barrel out of him like a broken dam. “You told me to take a risk and trust that you’re my _friend_ and yet you did _exactly_ what Percy and Bianca did the moment I decided I would stay at Camp Halfblood: you _left_!”

“But—”

“You want to know why I didn’t visit you right away?” Nico snaps, and his voice is painfully tight. “Because I was _angry_ at you! Because I knew that I would do everything in my power to bring you _back_! I would’ve driven myself insane summoning your spirit, like I did with Bianca! I would’ve—”

“You would’ve driven yourself straight back into darkness,” Jason guesses, and suddenly the back of his throat his numb. The angry words that barreled out earlier cease in his throat, and he stares at Nico in disbelief. Nico looks back up, his body shaking in deafening lulls. But the tears are still at the edges of his eyes.

“I can’t do that to Hazel. I can’t just _leave_ again,” Nico croaks. He wipes his tears into his sleeve, and he laughs as angrily as Jason did. “And so I did what you _recommended_ , Jason, I stayed out of the _shadows_! I helped oversee the funerals at Camp Halfblood and Camp Jupiter. I went back and forth on the east and west coast until everything was settled! People actually wanted me around and _needed_ me—and I still felt _awful_ because you still weren’t there!”

The tears trickle down Nico’s cheekbones full force now, and Jason thinks he finally understands why Nico was so set on keeping a stoic expression the first time they reunited. His throat swells, watching as the tall, gangly form of one of his best friends chokes on his words, clearly distraught with grief.

Heart-wrenched, even. Nico looks _heart-wrenched_ , like he did after Cupid.

“I don’t know,” Nico sobs now, and he glares at his tears as they run down the corners of his eyes, “I had nightmares too, Jason. Horrible nightmares every night for _weeks_ —but communications were down. Will kept telling me that you were going to be fine, and—”

He chokes up again.

“—and Apollo told me that you’d been psyching yourself up for _weeks_ to die at Caligula’s hands so Piper wouldn’t.” Nico yanks at his chest, his black t-shirt soaked with his own tears, and he presses a hand to his face, where his bangs are matting against his forehead. “My father told me that some deaths can’t be avoided. So I’ve been trying to _move on_ and not let myself grow into darkness, because I figured you’d be _at peace_ in Elysium, but—”

There’s a rage in his voice that makes the hair on Jason’s forearms bristle.

“But every time I have to leave you down in my father’s palace, I just get _angry_ , Jason. It gets harder and harder for me to keep coming back—and I’m _angry_ that you died for Apollo. I—I can’t be happy because you’re not _here_ , and I’m—” Nico’s voice shrinks, and he desperately tries to hide his face by looking away, but Jason can’t help but search for it. “—I’m still angry that you _left me_ , and I’m angry at myself that _I_ can’t be at peace with you either.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say. The heat in his body suddenly fades, and he stares at Nico head-on.

He thinks of the hateful words that he spewed at the praetor house, but now he focuses on Nico’s reaction. On the way Nico is shaking, the way his voice hardly above a whisper, but Jason hears all of it. He _sees_ the pain that his words caused, and suddenly the anger in his chest dwindles in his chest.

He doesn’t want to turn into a mania. He doesn’t want to live with regret or be driven into madness—because he doesn’t want to hurt his friends anymore. He doesn’t want to be driven by anger, insanity, and hate like his mother was.

“Nico,” Jason whispers gently, “do you know why I left?”

“Because you wanted to find out more about your mother and Thalia wouldn’t tell you.” Nico sucks in a shameful breath, and the words sound rehearsed. How many times has Nico gone in circles, trying to convince himself not to be upset at Jason’s death? How many times has he failed? “I know—”

“Because I wasn’t happy watching you fall for someone else,” Jason says. “Falling for someone who wasn’t me.”

Nico cocks his head back up. His eyes suddenly widen, and Jason has the briefest moment of dread, wondering if he’s heading in the wrong direction.

But if he didn’t say anything, could he go mad for never confessing?

“But…” Nico’s voice dries. “Piper…”

“We’d broken up before we both we went to California,” Jason protests, and it’s his turn to feel the emotions swell in his chest. They’re different from the anger—there’s an effervescence that bubbles in the pit of his stomach and prickles at his insides, making him feel lighter. “I—I know Silena said it was mostly charmspeak, but I did love her. I did everything that I could to be the boyfriend she wanted at the Wilderness School, but with you, it was easier. I could spend _hours_ talking to you about my hopes and dreams and just listen to you talk back. I could _think clearly_ , with you. But—then you started hanging out with Will, and…”

Jason’s voice trails off. He’s not even sure what he’s trying to say.

“And I got lonely again,” Jason confesses. “Piper broke up with me, we thought Leo was dead, and you were _happy._ No one needed me at Camp Halfblood and Thalia stopped visiting as often. And I thought—maybe if I was closer to my mother somehow, I’d find some peace with myself.”

Nico makes a sound, torn between frustration and pain. “I needed you, Jason.”

“You had Will, Nico. I,” Jason swallows the lump in his throat, and the tears burn in his eyes again. “I was your friend. I didn’t want to mess with your head and be selfish.”

To his surprise, Nico glares at him. The tears stain the corners of his eyes like streaks of clear paint, and his cheeks swell a dark red from his grief. “I think this entire ordeal makes it clear that you weren’t _selfish enough_ when you were alive, Jason.”

Jason snorts. He wonders how many ghosts have been driven to madness because of _selflessness._

“I didn’t want Will.”

Jason pauses. He watches as Nico tries to glare at his shoelaces, but the look crumbles. Nico’s eyebrows knit together with a palpable frustration, and Jason’s resolve melts at his throat. “But you two…you started dating, and—”

“And euphoria ends eventually, Jason,” Nico interjects. His hands twitch at his sides and he chokes on a breath. “Will never…he always invalidated how I felt. Like being an outcast was all in my head. He told me to just _get over it_ , and every time I was just being myself—” He laughs sourly, and it sounds like it’s at himself. “—he told me to stop being so _socially inept._ And he would just _touch_ me or _go for my hand_ while I was still coming to terms with being out, and told me to get used to that, too.”

“But you two were so—”

“So good together?” Nico finishes for him. “Like you and Piper?”

Jason’s protests dissolve in his throat. He feels his hands trembling at his sides.

“You’re right,” Nico whispers. “You and I. We’d spend hours talking. You didn’t like me _despite_ being a son of Hades, you accepted me. All of me. I…”

Nico’s voice tightens.

“ _I_ needed you, Jason,” Nico repeats.

Jason’s body shivers. The words ripple through him like a cold chill, soft and smooth as he looks towards Nico. Nico looks back at him, a quiet frustration in his eyes, and Jason thinks back to the specifics Nico had told him about the timing of the breakup.

Shortly after Jason died.

He doesn’t know how, but Nico evidently reads his mind. A tired smile curls against Nico’s lips, evidently exhausted by that subject matter.

“He told me to get over your death, too,” Nico murmurs. “You weren’t the only one that died. He lost a lot of siblings, too. There were a lot of people who were still alive and needed medical attention, and you were just one of _many_.”

Jason suddenly has an overwhelming urge to punch Will Solace in the face, for every time he crossed Nico’s boundaries or just told him to get _over it._

“It’s the one thing I was insistent on not doing,” Nico confesses, and his voice is hoarse. “Even when I was angry with you, I—I was so much more emotional about you than I ever was with him. I think that made him jealous. Not that he did a good job telling me, being a doctor and all. Every time he tried to make me feel better, it felt like he was trying to _cure_ me or something.”

“You should be allowed to feel, Nico.” Jason swallows thickly and he unfurls his fist. “If I was there—”

“I know, Jason,” Nico says quietly. He shakes his head. “But I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I cut that off myself.”

Jason remembers how he felt when Nico first told him that they’d broken up. He was elated for the first time since death. Every day in Elysium, hearing stories about his friends bothered him. They’d moved on after his death. He felt even worse because his friends deserved to be happy.

“You’re allowed to feel too, Jason.”

Jason lets out a shuddery breath. His eyes raise to Nico, whose demeanor melts—concerned and soft, instead of livid. “I…feel like…if I were more honest about my feelings, maybe—”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have left?” The edge of Nico’s lip lifts into a tired smile. “I’ve been down that path. Someone more insistent told me to come back. “

“it…wasn’t just me. Reyna wanted you to stay, too.”

“And yet she went off with Thalia and abandoned me too,” Nico retorts. There’s a defeat in his voice, and Jason so desperately wants to ask about it. Nico waves his hand, deciding it’s a topic for another day. He lets out a shaky breath and presses a hand to his forehead.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have died.” The hardness in Jason’s throat reappears, like when he tried to eat the brownie. It was rough reaching his stomach, like a tactile reminder that he was dead, and nothing was going to change that fact. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

Nico’s eyebrows shrivel together again, and a new set of tears threaten to leak from his eyes. He seethes, pushing his own emotions out of the way, and looks back up. “Be honest now. Otherwise you’re just going to descend into madness—”

“I really liked you.” Jason’s chest hurts. “I still really like you. I wanted to take your hand back then, that night around the campfire, but I didn’t think you’d like me back. I…I didn’t want to mess with your head, when you needed a friend.”

“I wouldn’t have offered a hand to you if I _didn’t_ like you back.”

The ache disappears in from Jason’s chest. His eyebrows furrow together, and he looks up, watching the glow of pink in Nico’s cheeks and the vulnerable gleam in Nico’s eyes. His breath catches in his throat, and Jason’s chest tingles. “But…you and Will—”

“Before me and Will,” Nico interjects. He laughs quietly—and it’s unclear of whether or not it’s at himself, at Jason, or at the whole situation. “After you and Piper. Your timeline sounds fuzzy.”

“Time…passes strangely in the Underworld.” It’s why a year has felt like an eternity. Why every stretch of time between Nico’s visits have felt like eons. Jason doesn’t understand how Persephone and Hades do it every year—he gets anxious and upset and frustrated each time Nico leaves.

“The Underworld has its own calendar,” Nico corrects. He doesn’t delve into a further explanation. Jason wonders if the look on Nico’s face mirrors his own—tentative, but serendipitous. Like they’ve both just realized the tragedy of their situation.

“So,” Jason whispers faintly, “I like you and you liked me—”

“I _like_ you,” Nico corrects again. This time the red flutters brighter in his cheeks, but he looks even more sure of himself than he did after Cupid and Percy. Surer than when Jason suggested going out with Will in the first place.

Jason’s entire essence tingles, but it’s different from the anger that whirled in him. He feels light with each word coming from Nico’s mouth. Not for a command, or anything like Piper’s charmspeak. He wants to reach out and hold Nico’s hand, and be the only two people in the world like when they’re in the palace. “So where do we go from here?”

The other edge of Nico’s lips curl, and he gestures back to the praetor house. “Now you go be honest with everyone else.”

*

The room is dead silent as Nico and Jason re-enter. The murmurings cease the moment Nico closes the door behind them, and Jason struggles to see above his glowing feet as they walk back to the dining room. He dreaded going back into the praetor house, but Nico made it clear what his two options were: go back to the Underworld or make up with his friends. Otherwise the regret of putting his friends behind him was going to needle at him too, and Jason desperately didn’t want to suffer the same fate as his mother.

His six friends stare from the other end of the room. Jason watches as Hazel and Nico share a silent nod and he wonders if Hazel had given them the same assessment about his mental state.

They stare at him—so far away from Jason, despite only being feet away. He feels another emotion swell in the pit of his stomach. Sadness, for ostracizing himself from the very friends he impatiently waited to join him in Elysium.

“I’m sorry,” Jason croaks hoarsely, “I didn’t mean—”

Piper and Leo fly up from their seats.

“Jason—”

“—it’s okay if you mean it.”

He looks back up to his old friends, who were at a loss of words earlier. Now, Leo stares at him with frantic comfort, and Piper’s kaleidoscope eyes glimmer with their usual brilliance, along with a new layer of red from tears. Their voices are as rough as his feels, and he wonders if they _talked_ about him after Nico and he left.

Of course they did. His death is a hot topic for his birthday.

Jason doesn’t jump when he feels the warmth Nico’s hand. He turns his gaze to the son of Hades, whose eyes read with the same concern, and he can’t help but sigh into it.

“Let’s talk privately,” Jason says.

Frank is nice enough to lend them the guest bedroom. Jason floats above the bed while Leo inaudibly shuts the door. Leo doesn’t fiddle with the toolbelt around his waist from restless energy. Piper doesn’t speak. They both look at each other, and Jason fights back the negative wave of emotions telling him that he’s there, but he’s not really _with_ them. He never really was. The Mist had given them fake memories, and Jason never had memories at all.

“I—” Piper’s voice falters. The tears swell in her eyes again, and Jason’s reminded of the August nights where he held her and they cried together, thinking they’d lost Leo. Leo looks hesitant to reach out and console her this time.

“Piper, I’m sorry,” Jason says quietly. “I didn’t mean—”

“Stop apologizing,” Piper says. There’s no charmspeak in her voice. Just a quiet plea uttered from her mouth, tiny and small compared to the way she used to rally monsters and crowds to do her bidding. Piper’s eyebrows mesh together, and her breath catches in her throat. “You did a lot of apologizing in our relationship, and I never let you be yourself.”

Jason watches wordlessly as she squeezes her eyes shut, as if to shut out the tears.

“I was… _always_ comparing our relationship to the other relationships in camp,” Piper confesses, and she laughs shamefully at herself. “And I would get angry when it wasn’t that way. Why wouldn’t you sneak _me_ into the pegasi stable so we could spend time together? Why couldn’t _we_ just steal a canoe boat and spend a night under the stars? Why weren’t _we_ just like Percy and Annabeth?”

He fiddles nervously with his robes.

“And then I’d get upset that you were so distant. But I never let you talk about your old life because I was afraid you’d _leave me_. Reyna was your best friend at Camp Jupiter and you never felt like you could talk to me about her,” she continues, and her voice cracks again. “And when you did try to talk to me about the things that you liked—like about the Pillars of Hercules, or Temple Hill, I wasn’t the best listener. I’d get annoyed that we couldn’t just move onto something else. Spend time together doing something _else._ ”

She hugs herself, looking alone for a child of Aphrodite in the middle of a room.

“All you ever did was try to console me that our relationship was real. But—between Hera and my mom, it just felt like _so much pressure_ to be the model relationship for everyone else. I even told Cabin Ten that _I_ knew what _real love_ is.” Piper’s voice cracks and she laughs again—just a quiet, bitter laugh that sounds like it’s built up after years. Her demeanor fades. “Hercules warned us that being a son of Zeus came with a lot of pressure. We never got to talk about that, did we? About you.”

“We didn’t,” Jason says quietly, and he looks at Piper with a different light.

“When I realized I was charmspeaking you, that made me angrier at Hera and my mom. And angrier at myself.” Piper sobs once more, the sound coming out cold and haunted. “It felt like nothing we had was _real_ , even when you said we should make new memories together. I was a _bad_ girlfriend to you, and I broke up with you because I needed to figure out what love _really_ meant.”

She wipes the edges of her eyes.

“And I never let you have a say in any of it. I never let you know why I wanted to break up, and you still wanted to be friends. But not like, _fake_ friends after breakups. _Real_ friends.” Piper laughs miserably. “Turns out I’m just a bad _ex_ , too. I was so angry at everything about our relationship, I just let Mellie think you dumped _me._ ”

“Piper, that’s okay.” For the first time, Jason interrupts her and flies to his feet. The motion is inaudible. He doesn’t think either of them would have looked up if it weren’t for the sound of his voice. Jason’s eyebrows furrow together, and the pit of his stomach is heavy. “I was okay that Mellie was mad at me. I knew one of us was going to _die,_ but there’s no way in Hades that I was ever going to let it be _you._ ”

“Jason, I tarnished your reputation when you didn’t deserve it!” Piper cries. Her face is red with anguish, cheeks swollen from the heat of her tears.

“I wanted you and the Hedges to get out of California as soon as possible. If it was going to go faster with Mellie angry with me, then so be it,” Jason insists. “I wasn’t going to let you die _._ ”

“So you thought it’d be okay for you to die instead?” Leo cuts in. His voice is prickly like shattered glass, and his own eyes are rimmed with tears. “You were okay with Piper and the Hedges just _leaving_ you in Pasadena by yourself, so you could die alone with a spear in your chest? You were going to let us _abandon you_ , and just _sacrifice yourself_ , Superman?”

Jason’s throat tightens and he glares at Leo. “Of everyone in this room, I don’t think you can judge me for _sacrificing myself_ , Leo.”

“I think I fucking _can_ , Jason!” Leo’s voice is heavy, as the tears stream down his face and the snot dribbles at his nostrils. He waves his arms around emphatically now, looking more like the Leo that Jason had grown to appreciate. “ _I_ sacrificed myself with Gaea so _you_ wouldn’t have to die! And _I_ knew that I was coming back! You were prepared to die with a capital _D_ , and you weren’t going to tell anyone!”

The air around him simmers, and Jason realizes Leo is trying his best not to explode into literal flames.

“I’m calling you an asshole for sacrificing yourself right now because I know _I_ was an asshole,” Leo says, his voice raspy. “Trust me. Nico made everyone form a line to _punch_ me when I got back to Camp Halfblood. He gave me a _few_ —one for Piper, and two for you.”

The edge of Jason’s lips curls into a smile, despite the tense situation. “He did?”

“He made me do that so I could actually see all the people that cared about me and were angry that I would purposefully sacrifice myself.” Leo snorts, and he wipes his snot on the sleeve of the military jacket. “And you have more people that care about you, too. Even more than the people sitting in this house. Beauty Queen and I…”

Leo’s eyes start to glisten with a new array of tears, and he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“We should have been there for you,” Piper interjects hoarsely. She looks over to Leo, reaching out with a hand, but Leo visibly shirks it off. She tries to hide the hurt on her face, but her demeanor falters anyway.

Jason watches the tiny gesture and feels his chest sting. “I don’t want you guys to fight.”

They both look at him, eyes hollow and desperate.

“Leo,” Jason says gently, and he’s surprised at how weightless the name feels on his tongue, after earlier pain. He swallows the lump in his throat, and it goes down much easier. “I’m glad that you were there for Piper when she needed you. You guys were friends way before I came into the picture. It makes sense.”

Piper and Leo look at each other this time, sharing a silent message that confuses him. Then—they close the gap between all three of them in tandem, Piper flanking to Jason’s left and Leo flanking to Jason’s left.

“The thing is, Jason,” Leo says, “the Mist forced us together—but the three of us—we still chose to be friends.”

“We _did_ make those new memories,” Piper continues, and her smile wavers. “I wouldn’t change a thing about the ones with you guys. And—if I changed anything about _us_ , it would’ve been the way that _I_ treated _you_.”

Jason’s eyebrows knit together. He looks up to his ex-girlfriend, and the painstaking guilt he had for never being able to please her echoes in the back of his mind. “You and I. We loved each other though, right?”

Piper blinks away tears, but she nods. “Yeah. I still love you, but—”

“As friends,” Jason finishes.

For the first time since his arrival, a smile etches across Piper’s face. She nods in agreement, and the brightness meets her shimmering eyes. “Friends.”

A sigh leaves Jason’s lips. He feels as weightless as he did with Nico, and his chest feels less hollow. Jason looks down to the bed and notices her hand through his, trying to comfort him despite all else. He looks to his right, and notices Leo’s knee poking into his and still trying to reach out to him despite the hard line between life and death. His eyes prickle with tears, but he doesn’t feel the anguish from before. There’s…relief.

“Good,” Leo chimes in. “I liked both of you better when you weren’t _thirsting_ after each other anyway.”

“ _Leo_!” Out of nowhere, Piper swipes the pillow off of Frank’s guest bed and throws it _through_ Jason _at_ their son of Hephaestus. His astral form ripples from penetration, like a heavy stone plopping from the water—but it doesn’t hurt. None the less, Piper gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.

Jason snaps his head back to Leo, who’d caught the pillow, but is now staring at them with wide eyes. He can’t help but laugh.

“On the bright side,” Jason says, “I can’t get hit in the head anymore.”

Piper and Leo blink, then break into a choir of laughter that could drown out the earlier tension. Jason watches as Leo takes the pillow and flings it back at Piper with much more force—then she grabs the second pillow against the headboard, flings across Jason, and smothers Leo, curls and all. The entire disarray erupts into a pillow fight, while Jason floats higher in the air with each chortle.

It ends with Piper and Leo, red-faced and huffing. Leo’s legs stick up in the air, face on the cold cement ground while Piper is on her belly, one surviving pillow still in her hands. Jason forgets he’s dead until they’re sharing one last meaningful glance.

“I’m really sorry about the way things ended, Jason,” Piper says quietly.

“Me too,” Leo agrees, and his voice shrinks. He covers his eyes with his hands. “I—I should have been there. We should have been at your funeral.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow together. He lands at the mattress and places a glowing hand on both of their shoulders. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

They both give him teary looks. This time, as they reach to give him a hug, Jason watches as their arms awkwardly fold around the air and try to make room for him where his body should be. Jason closes his eyes and pretends he’s hugging them back.

*

The tension of the praetor house feels like it lifts after that. They erupt from the guest bedroom, Leo and Piper chatting with a new brightness with Jason wedged between them. There’s a look of relief across the rest of their old crew, and Frank doesn’t seem too angry at the disaster caused in his guest bedroom. Nico lifts his head from his quiet conversation with Hazel, stares at the three of them, and the corner of his lip etches into a smile.

Jason pauses in the middle of the hallway, and Piper and Leo stop with him. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Piper lean in, her smile as mischievous as a child of Mercury.

“You know,” she says innocently, “there’s more than one good reason why we broke up.”

His voice cracks. “I—I’m sorry?”

“Oh, please, I always felt _way_ more like a third wheel on the Argo II with Mister Worrywart and di Angelo over there,” Leo snorts. He rolls his eyes.

Jason looks back at both of his friends, confounded, and both Piper and Leo give him pointed looks.

“Jason, you are _so obvious_ when you’re in love,” Piper accuses.

“I—I am?”

“Dude, you are hopelessly subtle about a lot of things,” Leo points out, “but you are _very_ unsubtle about Nico di Angelo.”

“I— _what_?” Jason’s voice spikes an octave, and he watches as the elfish grins spike higher and higher on his best friends’ faces.

Before they can elaborate, Nico appears in front of them. He stares between the trio, but his gaze lingers at Jason, concerned. “Everything okay now?”

Jason stands tall, unable to avoid the snickers coming from both Piper and Leo. He looks between both of them, shooting a tired glare, but doesn’t think the fluster translates well. “Yeah. Everything’s okay.”

Leo starts towards the table again. “C’mon, Superman—”

“—your birthday isn’t over yet.” Piper flashes a meaningful smile between both Nico and he and joins the son of Hephaestus at the table.

Nico turns his head to Jason in confusion. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Jason says quickly, and he gestures towards their long table. “Let’s—uh—go.”

Nico gives him one more suspicious look, but doesn’t argue.

The rest of the evening goes smoothly. Jason doesn’t say it aloud, but he’s embarrassed by his outbursts. Every time someone addresses him, he has a hard time looking at them in the eye, his hands fiddling with the ends of his robes. He’d psyched himself up for an unsurmountable number of tears at his death (and even then, that was a bust), but _yelling_ at his friends wasn’t something he expected.

They carry on the conversations with soft laughter and gentle topics. Occasionally, Nico slips another brownie or slice of pizza on his plate. When there’s a lull in the conversation, Jason forces himself to speak up.

“Guys,” Jason starts, his throat aching with guilt, “I’m sorry about what I said. I—I really wasn’t in the right of mind.”

They stare back at him silently. Jason can’t even fathom what looks are on their faces—the shame washes against him like a tidal wave. He wonders if it’s magnified, like his anger was earlier, since he’s a ghost.

“Dude,” Percy says finally, “we all mourned your death. Who says you’re not allowed to mourn, too?”

Jason looks up, and they all nod in agreement. There’s worry in their eyes—but none seem hung up on his words. His hands tremble on his lap, and he heaves a sigh of relief.

After that, Nico unveils two letters for Frank and Leo from their mothers. Each demigod suddenly falters at the mention of their mortal parent, and Jason tells them the different ways they’ve helped out in Elysium and inadvertently mothered him.

Leo actually places the letter on the table, to keep from burning it from emotional excitement and Hazel offers a smile and quietly offers to read it to Frank later. Both boys stare at Jason with shiny eyes, and Jason feels a little less hollow.

Annabeth gives him a hard, affirmative look at the end of the night. “I’m going to make sure Thalia’s here next time.”

Jason’s eyebrows knit together. “Will she listen?”

“She’ll make time for me,” Annabeth reassures, and her voice holds more confidence. Her eyebrows mimic Jason’s own, and she stares at him apologetically. “She was my big sister at some point, too, Jason.”

He tries to say _thank you_ , but it gets lost in the back of his throat. She smiles at him anyway.

Before they leave, Jason pulls Frank and Hazel aside to thank them one more time for handling his funeral.

“I didn’t know how my death was handled,” Jason confesses. He looks at the pontifex robes around his person, which feel foreign to him. He never erected the first shrine to Kymopoleia, yet the New Romans saw it fit to bury him like this anyway. It was a new part of his life that he was _just starting_ to learn about. “But I’m glad that it was handled by the two of you. And Reyna, before she left.”

Both Hazel and Frank grow misty eyed. Frank cradles the letter in his hands as delicately as he used to cradle his tinder.

“We were sad that everyone couldn’t make it,” Hazel confesses. Her voice seems steadier than the rest. Jason wonders if it’s because she’s already been dead herself, or because Pluto is her father. She’s calm, like her brother. She gestures to Nico, who’s busy conversing with Annabeth and Percy. “Nico was hard on himself about you dying.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow together, and he thinks back to his earlier conversation with Nico outside the via principalis. “He told me about the nightmares he had.”

Hazel tilts her head sympathetically, and she and Frank exchange a look. “He was plagued by nightmares about Bianca dying, too. After she joined the huntresses.”

Oh. Jason cocks his head back up.

“And then he spent months _obsessively_ searching for her. She kept pushing him away,” Hazel says, and her voice grows tense with anger that’s chilling to Jason. “She’d only come when Percy was involved.”

Jason had left, like Percy and Bianca did. That’s what Nico had said. He turns his head back to the son of Hades, who shares a look of disdain with Annabeth as Percy shoves a thirteenth slice of pizza in his mouth.

“When she reincarnated, she didn’t even say goodbye,” Hazel continues, and her gold eyes flash with frustration. “But—he changed after the second war. I mean— _I’ve_ always wanted him to stay, but you and Reyna both cemented that he had a place he belonged, too. When you died, he didn’t want to fall in the same cycle he did when Bianca died. He didn’t want to restlessly search for you, and demand for answers. He—”

“He poured himself into leading the funerals at both camps,” Frank finishes for her, and his voice is gentle. “There were more deaths after yours. People were grateful to have him around—morbid reason aside.”

“Morbid reason included,” Jason corrects absentmindedly. He thinks back to what Nico said. How Will liked Nico _despite_ being son of Hades, and never really all of Nico.

Hazel seems to know what he’s thinking immediately. Her eyes glint a brighter gold, and she shakes her head. “Nico was _never_ creepy. He just embraced his heritage, and for some reason, people just got scared of it. Will told him it was all in his head, but you don’t just make that that up. People see the children of the King of the Dead and just think we’re—that we’re _awful._ ”

“Hazel, you’re a praetor now and you’ve helped save the world twice. I think that dispels any _awful thing_ that anyone could say about you,” Jason points out.

A smile graces her face. She stands to the tips of her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. The fact that it makes contact startles Jason. It isn’t as warm as Nico’s hands have been, but it’s still something. He stares back at her, his eyes blurring.

“Too bad you weren’t there to help me deck Will Solace in the face,” she says. She rolls her eyes at Frank, who, despite all of his height and width, looks sheepish and nervous. “This one tried to hold me back.”

Jason makes a sound. “Nico said he could fight his own battles.”

“He has his rules and I have mine,” Hazel protests. She shrugs, and Jason thinks he understands why Frank is sweating.

“I know you weren’t Roman by the end of it, Jason. I mean—” Frank gestures to the praetor badge pinned to his collar, offering yet another look. They don’t have to say it aloud. Jason remembers very clearly choosing Greek, and the emergency field promotion back at the House of Hades. “But we wanted to honor you as best we could. You served the Legion for twelve years.”

“And we didn’t want to keep your spirit tied here,” Hazel continues. Her smile fades ever-so slightly and she shakes her head. “Knowing you, you’d try to pick up a sword and fight as a ghost.”

Jason can’t help but laugh at that. “I probably would have.”

“Stop by Temple Hill the next time Nico summons you,” Frank suggests. His eyebrows furrow together, expression pained, but he smiles through it. Jason faintly thinks Emily Zhang would be grateful that her son was able to grow from her death. “I know you wanted to build them yourself. I hope you think of them as your legacy at New Rome.”

Hazel reaches out and gives Jason’s hand a firm squeeze that makes his heart wrench. “I hope today has helped you find peace, Jason.”

Jason tries to keep his demeanor solid. He’s not sure if he’s doing a good job under Hazel’s gaze. “Thank you, guys.”

He doesn’t know if he’s found peace.

Because he still has to say goodbye.

*

They take the long way home. At least, that’s how Jason sees it. With one last tearful goodbye from their friends, Nico takes Jason’s hand and shadowtravels them to DOA Records. They walk past countless spirits loitering in the lobby aimlessly, who are waiting until they’ll be accepted for a voyage across the River Styx. Charon gives Nico a pleasant, eerie smile from behind a podium and they take an elevator down to the river itself, where he ushers them onto a long wooden boat.

“No need for coinage from the son and nephew of King Hades,” Charon says in a silky tone. He gestures to the many paper sailboats that glide across the glowing river. “Your payment is never-ending, Jason Grace. I thank you.”

The river glows as they sail across it, paper boats moving against the current in a beautiful array. Thousands of candles light the cavern of the Underworld, reflecting off the river like stars in an abyss of darkness. Beneath the rivers, Jason sees ripped up diplomas, broken toys—and everything that was washed away in the current. He remembers what Percy said about the River Styx once—how it was made of lost hopes and dreams that never came true.

He wonders if his own dreams had flooded the rivers, when he died.

“You okay?” Nico asks him quietly. He’s huddled beside Jason at the back of the boat, their hands still intertwined. They still haven’t addressed it after leaving the party. Nico thought it was more important to address Jason’s feelings with everyone else than address them. If there even _is_ a them.

“I’m calmer,” Jason confesses. He looks to the crisp white boats that covet around them, floating daintily across the Styx. He’d been so proud when Hades approved his first design, but…now he feels worse.

Nico gives Jason’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and Jason’s chest constricts. “Good.”

Jason’s mind is a sea of unsettled thoughts. He thinks back to Nico and Hazel’s words from before. About how part of the reason Nico was the way he was— _used_ to be the way he was—because of Bianca’s death. How he had nightmares leading up to it, and the sense of loneliness and abandonment after she left. How she _constantly_ left—as a huntress, as a spirit, and finally to be reincarnated into another life. She’d never said goodbye.

_You left me first_ , Nico had seethed at him.

Jason’s eyes burn. He looks at a reflection of himself for the first time on his eighteenth birthday: a long, narrow jaw, and blond hair he’d cut short again shortly before transferring to his boarding school. He sees the sadness that always seemed to be there, even when he was little. It feels stronger now, hollowing out the rest of his soul as they pass.

“What are you going to do when we get there?” Jason asks.

Even under the candles, Jason can see the pink as it flourishes across Nico’s cheekbones. Nico gives him a tentative look and his thumb brushes gently over Jason’s knuckles. “I told Hazel I’d come up for the War Games on Saturday. I could stay down here until then.”

Jason’s heart aches. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Nico’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “Why wouldn’t that be?”

“Because you still have a life up there,” Jason says quietly. He doesn’t look up to meet Nico’s eyes—he only sees the confusion as it’s reflected in the River Styx. “You have friends at both camps, and you finally found happiness up there. You have Hazel and Frank, and Percy and Annabeth, and Connor and Travis—”

“The Underworld has _you_ , Jason.”

The corners of Jason’s eyes sting, and he looks away before he can watch himself cry and fill up the River Styx with more misery. More hopelessness. He swallows hard and pulls his hand away from Nico’s own. “You told me you didn’t want to fall into the same cycle as you did with Bianca. Constantly trying to bring her back.”

“Jason—”

“I was _so worried_ about you when we sailed to Athens,” Jason admits. “All I ever wanted was for you to feel like you belonged. I—I don’t want to be the reason why you feel like you can’t go back. I want you to be happy.”

Nico studies his face, and his eyebrows knit together with worry. “Am I not allowed to be happy with you?”

“I—I _want_ to be happy with you,” Jason says, and his voice is faint, even in his ears. His chest hurts again. His heart hurts, and his stomach hurts, but it’s not like being on the surface. It’s an ache that reminds him that he’s dead, and it’s worse. “But—it’s _hard_ for me to watch you go back to the surface world. I’m dead, and I chose to sacrifice myself. You deserve to live your second chance of life at the fullest, even if it’s without me.”

“You don’t want to be with me?” Nico asks, his voice so painfully small that something inside Jason just breaks.

“I want you to be _happy_ ,” Jason says, and he rocks against the current, trying to soothe himself and failing. “I don’t—I don’t want you to be _haunted_ by my ghost. I don’t want to cause you to spiral, or feel like you don’t belong—”

Nico kisses him.

He presses a hand to Jason’s knee, steadying the both of them against the boat, and his lips are warm against Jason’s own. The sensation blooms through the rest of Jason, traveling through the inside of him like a fresh breath. Jason’s mind swells with the same tender heat.

The sensation lasts for a brief moment, and Nico pulls away.

Jason doesn’t know what to say. He stares at Nico under the candlelight—at the tresses of black hair at the crown of his head, and the charcoal darkness of his eyes that mirror the tiny flames in the caverns. The red is steady against Nico’s cheeks, but he looks at Jason with the same sureness as before.

“Why,” Jason breathes, “why would you do that?”

“To keep you from saying something you’d regret,” Nico’s eyebrows furrow together, and the edges of his lips twitch nervously, “and so I couldn’t regret not doing it while I was alive.”

Jason’s eyes swell with tears again. He’s done a lot of crying to day—at his own death, at having to leave his friends, but now his heart wavers in his chest. He’d been prepared to resign himself in Elysium and just _wait out_ his friends’ arrival. Wait out Nico’s arrival, and pretend that he didn’t dread the idea of Nico finding love and happiness in another guy up above.

“I’m not giving up my life in the surface world, Jason,” Nico whispers. His voice tremors, and he looks at the hand pressed firmly on Jason’s knee. “I’m choosing to keep you in it. If you’ll have me.”

“But—”

“What do you want, Jason?” Nico asks, and his voice is quiet and desperately steady. No matter the cool demeanor he tries to play, Jason can hear the anxiousness in his voice. Nico’s just as scared about this as Jason.

“I want _you._ ” And it makes it better. “I want to grow old with you.”

Nico lifts his head in surprise—

And Jason leans in and kisses back. He hears the quiet yelp of surprise from Nico as they touch hot skin to cold flesh, mumbling a quiet _sorry_ —but then Nico pulls him closer, warm hands wrapping around his around his neck, and _hears_ Nico’s heartbeat in his ears, like a melodic orchestra. The heat flourishes in him, raw and alive as they fervently kiss, and Jason’s hands cup Nico’s face, bringing him closer to siphon heat.

Kissing Nico is like feeling alive. _Better_ , than the rage that he’d felt at the praetor house. More vibrant and _perfect_ , with Nico’s pulse against his ears, and his hands at Nico’s jaw, and Nico’s smile against his own lips. Jason pours every emotion of warmth and love that he’d had for Nico on the surface into their embrace, and there’s a sigh of relief that escapes Jason’s mouth, even if he knows the words are silly.

He _knows_ they’re silly. He _knows_ they can’t grow old together, but he _wants_ Nico, and he _wants_ to be happy. He wants Nico to be happy with _him_ , with his face glowing under the shadows of the caverns and the flames of the candles. If Jason lets his mind wander, he can think about warm summer nights at Camp Halfblood again, where Nico’s smile reached his eyes and fireflies danced in his irises.

Jason doesn’t think about the despair of their situation—a mortal falling in love with a ghost.

He’s just happy.

Nico _is_ Elysium for him.

They pull apart, and Nico’s smile fills his heart to the brim.

The voyage seems to stretch, reflecting Jason’s desire of never wanting the night to end. He just kissed Nico di Angelo on his _birthday_ , and Jason doesn’t think he’s ever had a better present. At some point, Charon seems to disappear from the hem of the boat, and the oath-binding river carries them forward, alone together under starry candlelight and over glowing streams.

“Happy Birthday, Jason,” Nico whispers in his ear, hands knotted at the front of Jason’s robes.

The heat of his murmurs makes Jason shudder, and they kiss again.

“I meant it, you know,” Jason whispers back, tucking his chin over tufts of Nico’s hair. A wave of bittersweet sadness nibbles at the inside of his chest, but he forces himself to drown it out by pressing another kiss to Nico’s forehead. “I really wish I could grow old with you.”

He thinks about how long and gangly Nico looks since after the second war. Nico might not ever get rid of the gray lines under his eyes from his unending weeks of Tartarus, but he’s taller now. His jawline is more defined, and his shoulders are a little wider. Even if today was Jason’s eighteenth birthday, he’s never going to look older than sixteen and a half, like when he died, and Nico’s celebrated two birthdays without him.

Jason almost feels silly wrapping an arm so protectively around Nico. But it’s mostly for himself. He doesn’t want to let go of Nico, ever.

Nico grunts softly. “We could ask.”

Jason laughs at the joke, but notices that Nico doesn’t echo the sentiment. He pulls away from Nico momentarily to catch a better look of the son of Hades’s face—and finds it serious as ever. “What do you mean, _ask_?”

Nico shrugs nonchalantly, and his hand lands across Jason’s own. “We could ask my father to set your soul free.”

“Would he really be that lenient?”

“He let me take Hazel.”

“Yeah, but Hazel’s his _daughter_.” Jason arches an eyebrow of disbelief. “Even you have to admit that your dad has a bigger soft spot for his kids than most gods.”

“Exactly,” Nico says. “He also let Leo go.”

“Leo had the Physician’s Cure.”

“You think he was happy about that? And yet my dad still let him live.” Nico’s gaze narrows, looking more poignant this time. “Frank was supposed to die with his tinder in his hands, and he freed himself of that fate, too.”

“But—what you’re saying is—” Jason racks his brain for all of the reasons why Nico sounds absolutely insane, but has a hard time finding one. Hazel cheated death, Frank cheated death, Leo cheated death—Annabeth and Percy literally went to Tartarus and _back._ Maybe Jason’s death _was_ unfair.

But then Jason thinks back to how Elysium had grown sporadically overnight, after the many deaths at Camp Jupiter and at Camp Halfblood, and the many young faces that had far less stripes on their arms than his. The lump at the back of his throat feels as painful as the brownie when he tried to swallow it earlier.

“Would that even be fair?” Jason asks. He looks at the riverbed beneath him, filled with the many broken toys of kids that never got to live. Never got to be _kids._ “So many people _died_ during the war. Is it really fair for me to try and barter for my own—”

“Jason,” Nico cuts him off. “Look at me.”

Jason’s head snaps into attention and he turns immediately to look at the son of Hades. The Ghost King. Nico wrinkles his nose and waves his hand to dispel the command, and suddenly Jason floats a little less tensely.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of eternity accidentally doing _that_ ,” Nico says, his voice filling with ire. His demeanor falters.

“I dunno,” Jason jokes half-heartedly. “It could be fun.”

The edge of Nico’s lips curls into the beginnings of a smirk, but then it fades. He tucks the edges of his fingers under Jason’s own, and he raises his head. “Do you want to grow old with me?”

Jason shivers. He watches as Nico’s cheekbones capture the unearthly glow of the river and the heat of the cavern’s light. He’d said the words himself only moments ago, but for some reason, it felt _achievable_ coming from Nico’s own lips.

With that being the case, his resolve wavers. “I do.”

*

The palace has been colder since Persephone’s departure at the end of the winter. The torches always burn a little dimmer, and the hallways felt like they were mourning the loss of their queen, filled with the constant wail of depressed ghosts. Jason had grown used to it since he started spending more time at the palace.

They enter the throne room, hand-in-hand and catch the sight of King Hades discussing his day with Persephone via Iris Message. The King of the Dead breaks away mid-sentence. He turns his head and narrows his gaze at their intertwined hands. Jason feels a cold chill run up his spine, but it only urges him to grip Nico’s hand tighter.

Persephone giggles, the vapors of her Iris message gleaming like the sun compared to the darkness of the throne. “Fun party, boys?”

Maybe it’s just the sound of the springtime goddess’s voice, but Jason feels heat glowing in his cheeks.

Nico squeezes his hand reassuringly. “Jason has something that he wants to ask you.”

“About your birthday present?” Hades guesses. He and Persephone share a look, and he waves in the direction of the bed chambers. “Don’t worry, nephew, we made sure the hellhounds didn’t get to it. It’s perfectly wrapped in your room.”

“Um—no, sir, it’s not about that. Well—actually, it’s sort of about that.” Jason’s head spins at the mention of _birthday present_ from the _King and Queen_ of the Dead. A part of him bubbles with hope, and he sucks in a breath. “I had a request, sir.”

“You want a party down in Elysium as well, boy?” Hades asks. “I’ll have Alecto prep—”

“No, sir. I…” Jason’s eyes flit to Nico nervously, and the latter demigod nods in encouragement. “I want to go back to the surface. With your son.”

Hades stares at them wordlessly and arches an eyebrow in the air. “Then why did you come back down?”

Jason lets out a scraggly breath, and the anxiety painfully fills him. The Valdez logic of _can’t have anything bad happen to you if you’re already dead_ feels moot in the presence of their king. He turns once more to meet Nico’s gaze, and then peels his hand away from the living demigod. Jason steps forward and takes a knee. “I wish to go back to the surface _alive_ , King Hades. I want a second chance at life. I’m prepared for whatever test you want to throw at me.”

The King and Queen of the Underworld burn holes into his head. Jason feels his hands trembling at the cold floor. He peeks back up, and watches as Hades and Persephone carry on a silent conversation. Then, Hades turns his head to Nico.

“Did you put him up to his, my son?” Hades asks. There’s confusion in his voice, which Jason doesn’t blame him for. They’d spent the last year and a half improving the Fields of Asphodel and Elysium. These were the things that were supposed to make Jason happy and fulfilled—but they didn’t.

Jason briefly fears incurring the wrath of the King of the Underworld, but Nico doesn’t look the slightest bit terrified.

“I planted the idea in his head,” Nico confesses. “But his desire to prove his worth is all his own.”

“You needn’t prove your worth to me, Jason.” Hades lets out a worried sigh, and he folds his arms around his chest. “Per the laws I’ve established in the Underworld, you died a hero. If you’re unsatisfied with how you left things, then all you need to do is choose reincarnation. Die a hero three times and you’ll earn your place at the Isles of the Blessed.”

“With all due respect, King Hades, I…I don’t want to reincarnate.” Jason clears his throat. With mild reluctance, he goes from kneeling to sitting cross-legged on the throne room like the first day. “If I reincarnated, I wouldn’t be able to see my sister again. Or my friends. I…” Jason turns his head a degree, stealing a glance at charcoal covered eyes and mussy black hair. “I’d have to live another lifetime where I never see Nico again.”

In that moment, Nico’s hands fall from his chest. He stares at Jason, eyes widening in surprise, and brow furrowing with shock. Nico had once asked about reincarnation before, and Jason vehemently cut him off. Reincarnation was _never_ an option for Jason. Not when that meant losing the memories of his friends and his loved ones. He couldn’t just _forget_ again. No matter the years, Jason would rather wait than forget about the life he loved so much.

He wonders if that all translates in his look. Jason smiles softly at Nico, his heart lifting in his chest.

Evidently, it translates to the royal court. Hades hums in acknowledgement, his demeanor calm, and he turns to his son. “Will bringing him back to life make you happy, my son?”

Nico doesn’t answer right away. His lips press together softly, then straightens his posture. “Frankly, Father, Jason spent the duration of our friendship trying to make _me_ happy. I can only wish to do the same.”

Hades turns his head back to Jason. “Being alive and being with my son will make you happy, nephew? If I give you this test?”

Jason tries to suppress the shock on his face, and nods slowly. “Being with your son would make me _very_ happy, Sir.”

“Very well,” Hades concedes. He strokes his chin with contemplation. “A test. I suppose I did give one to that young man, Orpheus, all those years ago. But, what to give you?”

“I have one, my love,” Persephone suddenly chimes in. All three of them stare at her in the vapors, her rosy lips curling into a cool smirk.

Jason swallows hard.

“Water the plants, little brother,” she says. “Make them grow.”

*

Not having Persephone in the Underworld during the summer proves just how powerful she is. What was once filled with luscious greenery and flowers is now an ugly yellow. Trees branches wrinkle. Petals fall sorrowfully from cores. Fruit doesn’t seem quite as ripe as they were in the presence of their queen. The grass made a sickening crunch under Jason’s boots (a stark contrast compared to his summons) and he feels nauseous with each step.

A watering can rests in Jason’s hand, feeling miniscule as he looks at the vast expanse of disheartened plants across the expanse of the Underworld. There was never a doubt in Jason’s mind that Queen Persephone was powerful, but it’s frightening just _how_ powerful she is. Persephone created the seasons in both life _and_ death.

And she chose to give herself that power, when she loved King Hades and ate exactly six seeds of a pomegranate.

Jason looks over his shoulder now, where Nico sits at the swinging bench where they reunited eons ago.

“This might take a while,” Jason says. He gazes across the garden once more and tries not to let his resolve die. It wouldn’t surprise him if the garden only grew with Hades and Persephone’s love. And they’ve loved each other for thousands of years.

To his surprise, Nico appears by his side, pressing a kiss to Jason’s cheekbone. It’s different from the one Hazel had given him. Warmer. Maybe because Nico was a son of Hades, or maybe it was because it’s Nico. A smile etches across his lips, his hand grazing across Jason’s forearm as though they’ve been doing it for years.

“I’m here for as long as you need me,” Nico says.

Persephone’s request was blatantly clear. Her _little brother_ needed to water the plants. Jason doesn’t even want to think of the consequences of Nico helping him—if there are any. He fills the watering can with water from a pond, where the cattails have keeled over and drowned themselves until their queen’s return. Jason waves a hand, using the little plant magic that he knows to bring it back to life. The cattail quakes beneath his fingers, lifting for the brief second—and then wilts again.

Oh no.

Jason looks at the broad field of wilted flowers and he swallows hard. He raises his gaze to the stained-glass windows of the palace, where he sees the silhouette of Hades staring down at him. Judging him. He was tasked with watering the Gardens of Persephone, to prove that he was worthy of a second chance at life, and that was next to _impossible._ The whole palace was desolate and in despair without its queen, reflecting Hades’ wrenching heart for every moment that he was away from his wife.

Jason is one soul like the many that had fallen during Apollo’s trials. He and Piper were just two demigods that helped the mortal god through his trysts. Jason had spent all of his life in the Legion under his father’s sky, hoping one day to be recognized by Jupiter. But even as the son of the King of the Gods, he’d succumb to death eventually. He’d _chosen_ to die and end his life early, and if it meant saving Piper’s life, he’d choose death all over again.

Nico looks back at him from the swinging bench, one concerned eyebrow lifting in the air. He stands to his feet, and—

And Jason has his epiphany.

_You have to want it._

He has to want it. He has to _want_ to will the plants like they’re part of his domain. He has to _want_ as much as Persephone wanted to stay down in the Underworld with her beloved King of the Dead, and _want_ to be alive again, even if it’s _so selfish_ compared to all of his fallen comrades and friends that he’s made throughout his lifetime.

And Jason _wants_ to be selfish.

He _wants_ to live his life, going between New Rome and Long Island so he can hold Nico’s hand around the campfire, and drink hot cocoa at the top of Temple Hill with Hazel and Frank. He _wants_ to spar with Percy to see who would finally win, and _wants_ to stargaze with Leo and Piper, and _wants_ to sit with Thalia and Annabeth and listen to old stories about their relationship. And as stupid as it is, he _wants_ to live his life and finally receive his father’s acknowledgement, just as much as the King and Queen of the Underworld have acknowledged him.

Jason _wants_ to be alive again.

He drops the watering can at his garden boots and stares at the darkness above. He closes his eyes and sucks in a long, heavy breath. He inhales, and exhales, and his mind wanders to the culmination of emotions that he’s felt all day. The warmth of Nico’s hand in his own. The tingle of Hazel’s kiss against his cheek, the pride of knowing that Frank avenged and honored him. The joy he felt as Piper and Leo thrashed about the bedroom, causing so much disarray that Frank would probably need an interior designer to fix it.

He laughs, despite himself, reminded of Percy turning green as he puked his fifteenth slice of pizza in Frank’s trash can, and he presses a hand to his lips, remembering how blissfully happy he was when Nico kissed him.

A raindrop lands on his hand.

Another, on his forehead. And then another, on his shoulder, and another, and another, and Jason hears the tinny sounds as the storm culminates above their heads, and rain pelts his metal watering can.

Jason opens his eyes at his raindrops, watching as the storm trickles down from above, into the Underworld.

He throws his head back in a joyous laugh, splashing his boots into the grass as it greens between his feet, and spins around to the sight of flowers blooming. Jason waves his fingers, feeling at _peace_ with himself. Flowers sprout from the ground—beautiful, thornless red roses like the ones that caught Persephone’s eyes. He looks back over his shoulder and meets Nico—

Nico’s beautiful, charcoal eyes and olive skin, and fond smile as he just _watches_ Jason splashing about with rain puddles. Wet bangs mat to his face, and he holds his jacket above his head to cover himself from the storm.

Jason reaches out with a hand, the grin on his face so big that it hurts. “Dance with me?”

Nico lets out a quiet breath, and his hand is _warm_ , as he reaches back. His footsteps squelch loudly as he comes to Jason, and they flutter about the rain, flowers erecting from the dirt with each of Jason’s movements. He _feels_ the rain as much as he _feels_ Nico’s hands interlaced between his fingers and feels the rumble of _thunder_ as much as he feels Nico’s body vibrate with laughter in his grasp.

The raindrops are cold as they trickle down Jason’s cheeks and drench his t-shirt. He looks up into Nico’s eyes and laughs at the bangs matted between them. Jason reaches over and pushes the wet hair out of Nico’s face, and he cups a pale, warm cheek in his palm. 

“I love you, Nico di Angelo,” Jason breathes. He watches as Nico’s eyes widen briefly, and his own smile lifts with his heart.

Nico raises his head and kisses him, sweeter than the honeysuckles that bloom behind him. He tugs at Jason’s shirt, inching them closer, and the bliss is so palpable that Jason doesn’t think he ever died. He feels more alive than ever, in Nico’s embrace.

“Me too, Jason,” Nico whispers. “I love you too.”

With every word and movement, Jason feels the trees regain their stature. Pomegranates swell at the branches, and flowers emerge from the grass. The pond fills with water, and cattails grow under the storm, erecting with new life as Jason and Nico splash about the gardens. He laughs joyously, and the thornless roses even blossom around their heads.

Hades comes by a little later. Alecto perches at his shoulder, holding an umbrella made of femurs and ribs, and a canopy that bellows with the same souls that danced about her master’s robes. The vapor image of Persephone remains at Hades’s side, having never left during Jason’s trial, and she stares at the storm clouds with approval.

The God of the Dead hums, reaching out with a milky hand to touch the raindrops. “The sprinkler system would’ve sufficed, boys.”

*

Jason prepares for his departure the following morning. He tidies up his house in Elysium, cleaning up what little mess he’d made before his stays at the palace grew longer. Beckendorf, Silena, Dakota, and many of the other campers help him clean up, and despite all the anxiety and frustration that he’d felt while in Elysium, he feels bad for leaving.

“Thank you guys,” Jason says quietly, his voice hoarse. His eyebrows furrow together as he looks at them. “We didn’t see other for very long, but I—I really enjoyed the time we had together.”

Dakota claps a hand on his shoulder, a smile of familiarity curling against his lip. “We’ll have all the time in the world when you die a second time, Jason.”

“Say hi to Pollux for us—” Castor, Dakota’s Greek brother, reaches out and clasps a hand on Jason’s other shoulder. “—will you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Jason turns back to Beckendorf and Silena—who, like always, were holding hands.

Silena kisses him affectionately on the cheek. “You’re going back to the surface world for love, like I came down here for Charlie. I have no qualms about that.” She gives Jason a soft squeeze on the bicep. “And tell my little sister, Piper, it’s okay that she doesn’t have love figured out yet. It’s a complicated emotion. That’s why there’s a _goddess_ for it.”

“Lots of depth,” Jason says, echoing their first meeting.

Her smile brightens, and Jason’s chest bristles briefly.

Beckendorf slings an arm around his shoulder. “Tell my brother to get his head out of his ass and go back to camp to be with his family! The worst thing they could do is embarrass him in front of his girlfriend.”

Jason laughs. “Will do, Beck.”

His last goodbye is to Esperanza Valdez and Emily Zhang, who’d taken care of him as mothers in death, when his own mother still couldn’t. He looks at both of them with great reluctance as they hand two more letters to him for their respective sons, and his chest hardens.

“You both died really young,” Jason tells them, his eyebrows furrowing together. He’d thought about it at his birthday party—how while he stopped past sixteen and a half, his friends kept growing. Esperanza had died when Leo was seven, and Frank sixteen, but soon his friends would be reaching their twenties and having children, too. Being mothers didn’t make them old. They still had a lot of life to live. “Maybe if Nico and I go back to the palace, we can ask if they’ll let you live, too—”

Esperanza pulls him into a headlock, despite being nearly half his size. She cackles in a way that reminds Jason of the day before, when Leo shoved a pillow in Piper’s face. “Stop being so _serious_ , Jason! No wonder you need a friend like my Leo!”

“But—”

“Go be a kid, Jason,” Emily says.

Jason raises his head hesitantly and is met with smiles from both mothers. His chest aches as he looks at both of them, and he nods softly. Be a kid. Be _selfish_. “Okay.”

He envelops them in one last hug, knowing it’d be the last time for a while.

*

Nico is waiting for him at the edge of Elysium, his face glowing in the artificial sun and his black clothes looking solid, compared to the many souls behind Jason. A smile curls against his lips, charcoal eyes lighting up as they see him. “Took you a while.”

“Saying goodbye is hard,” Jason admits. He’s surprised at how gravelly his own voice sounds.

“Saying goodbye to the dead is always hard,” Nico agrees. He grows quiet, and his gaze lifts to the many buildings that appear with each death, personalized to each hero who has fallen. “Sometimes you don’t even get to hear them say it back.”

Jason follows his gaze, and watches as Nico’s eyes glaze over with something inexplicable. Something…haunted.

He wonders how long it’s been since Nico has stepped foot in Elysium. Maybe not since trying to find Bianca. Since finding Hazel instead.

“I’m sure you had happy moments in there.” Nico’s voice is momentarily distant, but it comes back with full vibrato, and he turns back to Jason.

Jason reaches over and presses one last cold kiss on Nico’s forehead, and his chest flutters as he hears Nico sigh. “I’ll be happier the next time I die. With you beside me.”

Silence.

Nico laughs, and Jason grimaces with embarrassment.

“That,” Jason mumbles sheepishly, “uh, sounded less morbid in my head—”

“I know what you meant, Jason.” Nico reaches up and presses a kiss to Jason’s mouth. Then, he takes a step back, the shadows of the walls of Elysium swirling at his feet. The light glints in the hue of his eyes, and he reaches out with a hand and a smile curled at his lips. “Ready?”

Jason steps out of Elysium and reaches for Nico’s hand without a second thought, the warmth fluttering through his palm. He smiles back, feeling more alive already. “Ready.”

Tendrils coil around their feet, and Jason and Nico disappear from the Underworld together. Until next time.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed, I'm so happy to share this with you! As always, stay safe! 8) 
> 
> Edit: [here is a drawing that I did](https://kingburu.tumblr.com/post/622817912159371264/kingburu-kingburu-im-not-giving-up-my-life) for the first kiss scene! [and another!](https://kingburu.tumblr.com/post/623316990019485696/the-raindrops-are-cold-as-they-trickle-down) thank you again for reading!


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